


only time will tell

by choi_kimmy



Series: in any version of reality, i'll still choose you [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst without a happy ending, F/M, I'm serious don't expect a happy ending, Lots of Heartbreaks, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choi_kimmy/pseuds/choi_kimmy
Summary: "She remembers seeing red. Lots and lots of red.Red that doesn’t quite stand out like roses or red apples in the market. Red that isn’t cherries on top of their shared sundaes. It isn’t red that reminds her of the intensity and burning passion when she is loved, of swollen lips after kisses. It isn’t the brimming confidence that washes over her when he twirls his finger around her locks of red and whispers into her ear how beautiful she is.Instead, it is red that sends her into a frenzy of panic, her heart lurching into her throat, a gutted feeling of disarray.Blood. Red that flashes across her eyes when she feels surges of pain and anger.Blood. Red that lingers thickly in the air, the smell of metallic tinge that makes her sick in the stomach.Blood. It is red on her hands, on her face, red that she cannot wipe away no matter how much she tries.Not hers. His. Maybe both of theirs."In other words; Natasha finds herself stuck in a time loop where she has to relive the same day over and over again, but she doesn't realise this until it is too late (to change anything).





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I don't know why I do this to myself, but perhaps I just like pain and suffering. :') This will be a multi-chaptered fic focusing on the theme of being stuck in a "time loop", but I've added my own twists which you will see in future chapters. 
> 
> I dedicate this fic to Rachel & Crystal & Aly, three close friends who eat angst for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Comments (you can scream at me too) and kudos are welcomed, thank you for reading!

She remembers seeing red. Lots and lots of red.

Red that doesn’t quite stand out like roses or red apples in the market. Red that isn’t cherries on top of their shared sundaes. It isn’t red that reminds her of the intensity and burning passion when she is loved, of swollen lips after kisses. It isn’t the brimming confidence that washes over her when he twirls his finger around her locks of red and whispers into her ear how beautiful she is.

Instead, it is red that sends her into a frenzy of panic, her heart lurching into her throat, a gutted feeling of disarray. _Blood._ Red that flashes across her eyes when she feels surges of pain and anger. _Blood. _Red that lingers thickly in the air, the smell of metallic tinge that makes her sick in the stomach. _Blood. _It is red on her hands, on her face, red that she cannot wipe away no matter how much she tries. _Not hers. His. Maybe both of theirs._

Natasha wants to call out his name, but nothing is coming out from her throat. Her voice is suppressed by shock, of what just happened, of what she barely makes out in front of her. She wants to move, but her limbs are betraying her command. She _can’t _move, not when she’s firmly wedged in between tangled seatbelts and a deployed airbag. _Red. _So much of red.

“_Steve_,” She utters with all her remaining strength, pain searing through her in an instant that nearly knocks all the breath from her. She can’t think, can’t focus, even though she hears a few rushed voices shouting all at once near her. Her head hurts._ Everything _hurts. Her heart thunders against her ribcage fast and loud. The world is spinning. She gasps for air, her breathing irregular, shallow, her entire body trembling. Her chest constricts. Tears prick her eyes. 

_Steve_, her mind screams, but her throat is closed.

Then the voices start to become distant, faraway sounds, the siren in the background seems to fade away even though it is coming closer and closer. Her eyes are drooping, her breathing slowing down. She fights to stay awake, she fights to turn her head to look at the unconscious, unresponsive being beside her.

_Ste_ —

And then everything becomes black.

* * *

** 16 HOURS EARLIER  **

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt, her alarm piercing through the otherwise quiet and serene room. It takes her a few seconds to adjust to the sunlight streaming inside and hitting the edge of her bed, the curtains dancing slightly to the summer breeze. She swings an arm to the side in reflex, switching the alarm off before pulling the duvet over her head--it is too early to get out of bed just yet--it’s _Sunday_, for crying out loud, 7 should be considered an ungodly hour on this day. 

Natasha almost manages to fall back to slumber when she hears footsteps padding across the room, and the gears in her mind kicks in instantaneously. She pretends not to, pretends she is fast asleep--but Natasha knows that he could see through her every action, so she isn’t surprised when she hears his voice.

“Good morning, love.”

For a few seconds, Natasha contemplates to stay mum. It’s really too early to be up and about, why can’t she sleep in today? Why must her _husband_ be an early riser who wakes up religiously at 5 every single day for a morning run?

“Ten more minutes.” She grunts from underneath the duvet, her eyes still closed even when she feels the slight dip of the bed, the weight of another person on the other side. Natasha knows what he is about to do, and as soon as she thinks that, a pair of strong arms are already wrapping around her torso. Air hits her face one second after, and she winces at the light that she feels even through her closed eyelids. “s’ too early.” She grumbles, voice still thick from sleep. 

Natasha hears him chuckling. She guesses that he’s probably looking at her with his goddamn perfect blue orbs, probably judging her for being such a sloth when he’d already returned from a jog around the park while she was still fast asleep in dreamland. “Five minutes?” She opens one of her eyes slowly, her attempts to negotiate foiled the moment she meets his gaze.

“I made breakfast.” Steve says, brushing a few messy strands away from her face. “It’s going to get cold if you don’t eat soon.”

“Hmm.” She hums before burying her face deeper into her pillow. “Don’t need it. Give it to Liho.”

“Nat…” He shakes his head, though there is nothing but adoration as Steve stares at Natasha’s sleeping figure. He figures she must be really tired that morning, judging from how she is acting. He leans down to press his lips on her forehead. “Okay, love.” He relents eventually. “Sleep, then.”

Steve gets down from the bed as slowly as he could, so that the springs of the mattress don’t bother Natasha. He hears her mumbling something against her pillow, and Steve finds himself smiling. “Love you too.” He whispers before going out from their bedroom.

* * *

Natasha finally drags herself out of bed an hour later, reaching blindly for one of Steve’s old college t-shirt hanging behind the door. She puts it over her head, relishing in the lingering but faint scent of pine and vanilla. It almost makes her feel instantly better. 

When she steps out of the room, she finds herself smiling in reflex. There’s a waft of freshly made pancakes still lingering in the air, the smell so pleasant that her stomach lets out a low grumble of hunger.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart.” Natasha announces as soon as she reaches the dining area. Steve looks up from his newspaper, already smiling. She settles herself at the chair opposite him. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Shucks,” Steve replies bashfully. “I can’t possibly let my wife starve now, can I?”

“Always the gentleman.” Natasha goes along with his tease while cutting her pancake into smaller pieces. She pops a piece in her mouth and instantly lets out a sigh of contentment. “Can this day never end, please? All this peace, just you and me.”

Steve chuckles. “You say that but in the next hour you’re going to tell me that you miss James.”

Natasha shrugs cooly, unfazed at the mention of their son’s name. “I am positive he’s having the time of his life at Fury’s. He didn’t even call us last nig—"

Before she could finish her sentence, there’s a flash of black that lands on the dining table unannounced—Liho—and before Natasha could react to the sudden addition perched on top of the table, Liho knocks over the glass of milk beside her plate. She lets out a loud shriek the same second its content spills all over the table, her plate and some even onto her shirt. 

“_Liho_!” Natasha explodes, scooting backward in her chair in reflex. Steve leaps from his chair to grab a cloth from the kitchen and returns in a split second to wipe the spilled milk. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He repeats over and over again in an attempt to soothe her annoyance.

She sighs, then points at the shirt she is wearing, _his_. “This is your favourite t-shirt.”

“Nat, it’s been through worse. It’ll come off.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly.

“God,” Natasha wags a finger at Liho who is licking milk off her paws. “sometimes I just want to throw you out.”

“But you won’t.” Steve puts in gently, still wiping the table. “And you know it. You love Liho too much to do that to her.”

“Love.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Such an annoying feeling, don’t you think?”

Steve just laughs, settling his gaze on her. He could tell that she is cooling off slowly, a small smile forming on her face as she meets his eyes. “How are you so calm and patient all the time?”

Steve grins, then teases. “Well, one of us has to. It’s obviously not going to be you.”

She is already halfway up from her seat. “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw _you _out as well.”

“Because I’m right and you know it?” He moves quickly to block her path. “Because you love me?”

“Really? How sure are you?” She smirks. 

It’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “Would the ring on your finger indicate otherwise?”

“Touché.” Natasha chuckles, sidestepping to get past him. She pauses in her step, turning sideways, her eyes gleaming. “Join me in the shower, perhaps?”

“I thought you wanted to throw me out?” Steve teases again, and Natasha lets out a loud groan before turning away. “I take back my offer.”

But Steve already has a plan of his own, taking two large steps to reach her, then effortlessly lifts her from the floor. Natasha lets out a yelp of surprise. “_Steve!”_

“Sorry ma’am, I’m afraid you can’t do that.” He replies easily and makes his way gingerly towards the bathroom. He hears the chuckles emitting from her as she wraps her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. “Won’t let you.”

“How _unfortunate_.” Natasha whispers into his ear, coming off a little too sultry than expected. She could feel it from the way he is already tensing up — it makes her smile at how easy she could still get through him even though they’ve been married for almost 7 years. “Guess you should be thankful that I love you, huh?”

“I seem to recall,” Steve swings open the door to the bathroom in one swift motion, then setting her back down onto the floor, his hands slipping underneath the shirt — his shirt — that she’s wearing. “someone saying five minutes ago that love is an annoying feeling.” 

“Just—” Natasha feels her body react to his touch instantaneously, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on the sides of her stomach. “ —shut up and kiss me.”

“Much obliged.” Steve murmurs, then leans down to close the gap between them.

* * *

After showering, they fall back to their usual Sunday routine; Steve is perched on the living room couch, his sketchbook and pencil in his hands. As he usually doesn’t have much time for his hobby during weekdays, Steve would usually reserve Sundays to draw if James isn’t around for him to play with. It is a habit fully supported by Natasha. She’d been the one who bought the sketchbook for him in the first place after all, encouraging him to continue his hobby and maybe even consider pursuing his long forgotten dream.

Natasha on the other hand, is reading a novel, or at least, attempting to. But she just cannot find it in her to concentrate, having read the same sentence three times without really digesting the context or the words. She lets out a groan, knowing exactly why she is feeling this distracted — it’s been more than 24 hours, but she has _yet _to receive a call or even a text from Fury. God, Natasha mentally sighs, she really misses James.

Still, Natasha shakes her head and tries to bring herself to focus on the book again, she does not want to give in, not wanting Steve to look at her with that triumph and knowing look on his face as he mouths _I told you so_. No, Natasha thinks to herself, she will not succumb to the temptation to just pick her phone lying dormant beside her and dial the number she knows by heart.

“Just call him, love.”

Natasha nearly drops the book out of shock, her head snapping up at his direction. Steve isn’t even looking at her, clearly focused on his drawing. “You’re going to break the phone with your stare alone if you don’t.”

She scoffs, but smiles after. Steve continues, “I miss him too, Nat.”

Hearing that is enough for Natasha to put aside her novel, taking her phone into her hand instead. There is no hesitation from her to call her godfather. 

“Natasha,” Fury answers after two rings, his greeting curt as usual. He goes straight to the next thing on his mind, “do you know what your son said to me yesterday night?” 

She raises an eyebrow worriedly. “What?”

“He said, and I quote, _grandpa, if I’m old enough to tie my shoelaces, I’m old enough not to be read fairytales to bed._” 

Natasha snorts immediately upon hearing that as Fury continues. “I am a hundred percent sure that he did not get that sass from Rogers.”

She lets out a laugh. “Well...you raised me, you should know.” 

“You were generally a pretty good kid, don’t get me wrong. But the words that come out from your tiny mouth…” It is Fury’s turn to let out a low chuckle. “James definitely got it from his mother.”

Natasha is grinning, exchanging looks with Steve who had raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “How is he?”

“Playing with Wanda. Hold on.” Fury replies, and there’s a shift of movement from the other line. She hears soft squealing in the background, Wanda’s laughter ensuing. “James, your mother wants to speak to you.” 

Natasha removes the phone from her ears to put it on loudspeaker just as Steve puts his sketchbook and pencil down. “Mommy!” A second after, they hear a clearly excited James Rogers screaming into the receiver, “Mommy! Auntie Wanda said we should go to Disneyland together someday!”

“Hi darling,” Natasha smiles at the same time Steve does. “Did she really say that?”

“Uh huh.” She imagines that James is bobbing his head up and down in excitement. “She said we can go on all the rides and see Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear and Snow White—”

“We can go next year, darling.” Natasha says easily. “Daddy will bring us, right, daddy?” She playfully elbows Steve’s ribs. He chuckles loudly, one hand curling around Natasha’s elbow to stop her. James voice comes in again, “Daddy? Daddy is that you? Did you hear what I just told mommy?”

“Yes, buddy. I did.” Steve replies, exchanging a warm look with Natasha who is all smiles now. “Are you enjoying your weekend at your grandpa Fury’s house?”

“Mmhmm.” James replies. “Auntie Wanda lets me eat ice-cream before bed.”

“_James! That’s supposed to be our little secret!_” Both Steve and Natasha could hear Wanda’s exasperated sigh from the other line, then Wanda’s voice comes in a lot clearer than before, having taken the phone away from James for a brief second. “It will not happen tonight, Steve, please tell Nat not to kill me. Or maybe...just don’t let her know I fed James ice-cream last night before bed?”

“I can hear you, yknow.” Natasha says calmly, almost seeing Wanda’s face freezing up from the other line. “You’re on loudspeaker.”

Wanda gives a controlled laugh, much to Natasha’s amusement. “Hi, ‘tasha. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, Wanda.” She shakes her head, though a smile finds its way to her lips. “I hope he isn’t giving you too much of a trouble.”

“No trouble at all, I adore this cheeky little cherub.” Natasha could hear James giggling again from the other line, possibly from Wanda tickling him or pinching his cheeks. “Oh wait, Fury wants to talk to you.”

Fury comes back onto the line. “I’ll send James to his kindergarten tomorrow, so you’ll pick him up, right?”

“Yes, Fury.” 

“Good. What time are you two leaving for the Starks’ anniversary party, again? I was wondering if you want James to call you tonight before he goes to bed.”

“Oh,” Natasha meets Steve’s eyes, to which he simply shrugs. “I think we’ll be in the party during his bedtime. We’re leaving at 7.”

“I see, nevermind then.” Fury says. “Guess I’ll just need to find some other children’s book to read to him. I only have books about fairytales and Disney princesses because of you and Wanda.”

Natasha chuckles. “Read him Mulan. He’d love it, I’m sure of it.”

“Right.” Fury mumbles over the line. “He didn’t like The Little Mermaid. I should have known. God, the amount of questions you would ask me when you were a kid...”

Steve casts her a glance fondly as she laughs at the distant memory of her childhood. Natasha remembers asking Fury why Ariel would give up her voice for a pair of legs, when being a mermaid is obviously so much cooler than meeting a boy. Fury had simply stared at her, completely aghast, not knowing how to answer her. In the end, he opted for a _because it’s a fairytale, and the princess usually gets to be with the prince._ Young Natasha was not impressed with his answer. “Thanks, Fury. Really appreciate it.”

“Well, I need to go now. We’re bringing James to the toy museum today.” Fury announces, his tone happy and light, which is quite unlike him. 

“Thanks for watching James this weekend.” Steve quickly puts in gratuitously. 

“Don’t mention about it.” Fury replies. “Have fun at the party tonight.”

“We will.” Steve nods, even though he knows Fury cannot see him. “Tell James we love him and we will see him tomorrow.”

“Of course. See you two soon.”

“Bye, Fury.” Natasha says, and the line goes dead. She puts her phone away and picks up her novel again. Natasha doesn’t even realise she is beaming to herself until she looks up from the page and finds Steve staring at her, a soft smile on his face. “What?” She asks in reflex, quirking an eyebrow.

Steve tilts his head to the side, his smile becoming wider. “Remember when you first found out you were pregnant with James?”

Natasha relaxes her expression, smiling slightly at the memory six years ago, how terrified she had been seeing the double lines on the pregnancy stick she’d bought from the drugstore down the block. Her insecurities had weighed down her shoulders so much so that she’d missed the feeling of joy in finding out that she was about 7 weeks along. Steve had been ecstatic when she told him, a genuine reaction she’d expected, but couldn’t mirror. 

“Remember when I said you would be a great mom?” Steve continues, reaching for one of her hands. “That you shouldn’t even doubt your capabilities?”

“Only because I have you beside me along the journey.” Natasha squeezes his hand in response, her expression serene; she’d come so far since the day she was worried sick if she could even be capable of loving and caring for another human being. Today, she would jump in front of a bullet for James if she had to, without a question, without any qualms or hesitation.

“No,” Steve disagrees gently with a shake of his head. “You need to give yourself some credit. It’s all you, Nat.”

Natasha doesn’t reply to that. Instead, she lets out a low chuckle and snuggles closer into him, resting her head against his chest. She listens to the steady beating of his heartbeat, wonders if time could just slow down for a moment. Natasha believes that she is at the peak of her life, her happiness meter probably filled to the brim; there is nothing more perfect than this phase in her life.

And nothing, she thinks to herself, _nothing_ could ever go wrong from this point.

* * *

When Steve sees Natasha in her evening gown, a classy and long black dress hugging her body and accentuating her figure, his jaw nearly drops open. She purses her lips together, bright red from the lipstick she’d just kept into her purse, when she meets his gaze. “See something you like, Rogers?” She teases, her tone flirtatious. 

“I do see _someone _I like, yes.” He responses easily, handing out an arm for her to hold. 

“Aw, you don’t like the dress?” Natasha feigns disappointment. “It’s really expensive, you know. I bought it with Pepper the other day.”

“Really?” Steve arches an eyebrow, then leans down to whisper, “I’d much rather it be on the floor, though.”

Natasha laughs, the implication not lost to her, but places one finger on his chest to stop him from advancing any closer. Then, she smirks. “Save your words for tonight.”

Steve chuckles, and unlocks the front door.

* * *

Tony and Pepper’s wedding anniversary party is nothing short of perfect as Natasha has expected; extravagant, fancy, over the top, beautiful decorations around the ballroom in the Stark Tower. When they reached the foyer of the ballroom, they immediately find familiar faces among the crowd--Sam and Maria, Clint and Laura--all four huddled in a corner sipping their glasses of champagne. 

As they couldn’t locate their gracious hosts for that evening, Steve and Natasha begin to make their way towards their friends instead. Sam is the first to notice them, giving them a wave of his champagne glass as the others whip their heads towards their direction.

“Quick,” Sam is already speaking once they are within earshot from the group. “help us decide if Stark’s party decoration is better this year or last year. You’re our tiebreaker.”

Clint snorts. “What if they both choose differently?”

“Please,” Sam is smirking. “Steve would choose whatever Natasha chooses.”

Steve simply smiles while Natasha lets out a hearty laugh. “Why is this even important?”

“Just humour the boys, Nat.” Maria replies on their behalf, taking a sip off her glass. “They have nothing else better to do.”

Laura giggles, though she keeps mum. Clint shrugs. “She isn’t wrong.”

“Well,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t even remember last year’s decorations. Tony hosted several grand parties throughout the year.”

_“Thank _you.” Maria says immediately after. “That’s what I said, but Sam insisted last year’s was better, while Clint thinks this year’s more regal and classy.”

“You know how Pepper is, she’d definitely try her very best to make every year’s decorations better.” Clint gives his two cents that Natasha easily agrees with. Sam clears his throat then. “Yes, but last year’s decoration had a more dreamy, whimsical feeling to it.”

“But regal suits them better.” Clint says. “They’re _literally _royalty.”

“Oh _god _here we go again.” Maria groans loudly, half rolling her eyes in feign annoyance. Natasha fights the urge to laugh--it is situations like this, the boys arguing while the girls (and Steve) just watch, not getting involved, that reminds her of normalcy, how they’ve all remain unchanged since their college days. Ten years from now, Natasha bets to herself silently, Clint and Sam might just still be arguing over something as petty as party decorations.

“I think they’re _both_ beautiful.” Laura puts in firmly and exchanges a knowing smile with Steve and Natasha. “Is James with Fury and Wanda?” She changes the topic, effectively ending the two men’s childish banter.

Steve nods, but before he could say anything else, someone interrupts their conversation.

“There you guys are!” All of them turn towards the direction of the all too familiar voice belonging to Tony, who is already making his way towards them, his arms outstretched. “What do you think?”

“Lovely, Stark.” Natasha is the first to respond, already smiling. “As expected.”

“Why thank you, Romanoff. Wait, why is your hand empty?” Tony says, then snaps his fingers together at a nearby waiter in a haste. “Excuse me? A glass of champagne for the lady, please.” But Tony pauses, looking back at Natasha. He raises an eyebrow, a look on his face that causes Natasha to also raise one eyebrow. “Unless…”

Clint snickers, immediately knowing what Tony is thinking. Natasha rolls her eyes in understanding before taking a glass from the waiter. “_No_.” She says firmly. “I’m not.”

“Aw,” Tony’s face falls ever so slightly. “And here I thought you’d finally grant James his Christmas wish from last year.”

Steve shakes his head, merely laughing. Maria and Laura are both smiling, Sam has an eyebrow raised, not quite understanding what is happening. Natasha on the other hand, rolls her eyes even harder. “That wasn’t what he asked for.”

“He didn’t _have _to.” Tony retorts. “I could tell from the way he was playing with Morgan. So full of love, the potential of being a protective older _brother_.”

“Well if it happens,” Natasha meets Steve’s gaze, a smile on her lips before she turns back to look at Tony. “You’ll be the first we’d tell, okay?”

Tony punches the air in playful triumph, earning amused looks from Maria and Natasha. “Look, I’m just putting it out here that the fact that I am still not any of your kids’-” He gestures to both Clint and Steve, “-godfather is an absolute_ tragedy_.” 

“Tony.” A sigh is heard, and Tony whirls around to find Pepper shaking her head in disbelief. “_What_ are you doing?”

“Pep!” Tony grins, reaching for his wife as he gently places an arm around her waist. “Red thinks our party is lovely. As do the others, I would assume.” 

Natasha is the first to reach Pepper, her smile broad as she hugs her best friend. “Congratulations, Pepper.”

When she releases her, Maria and Laura are already waiting to congratulate Pepper for-as Maria would say-_surviving_ another year being married to Tony Stark, both sharing the joy of the happily married couple of almost a decade. Natasha looks over her shoulder to see that the men are now speaking to each other, Tony clapping Clint’s back after saying something to him. Unintentionally, she finds Steve’s gaze on hers briefly, and they both exchange another smile towards each other before Natasha turns away.

She spends the rest of the party thinking of Tony’s words, wondering if she is ready to add another member into their family.

The answer comes to her eventually, it echoes within her heart, loud and clear.

* * *

The party finishes a little past 10.30, and after saying goodbye to everyone, Steve and Natasha leave the Stark Tower at 10.45, both contented, though exhausted from all the socialising that evening. 

The drive back home is quiet, Natasha’s thoughts are tangled in knots as she tries to construct the simplest sentence she could think of. “Steve?” She begins calmly, turning sideways slightly to look at him. 

“Yeah?” He asks.

“I’ve been thinking,” Natasha sucks in her breath. “about what Tony said earlier.”

She sees the small smile appearing on his face, though his eyes are trained on the road. “Don’t mind him, Nat. You know how he is.”

“No,” She shakes her head. “Not like that. Do you think it’s time we, uh,” Natasha frowns, her mind blank. For someone usually so articulate and sharp, she’s suddenly so cautious of the words lingering at the tip of her mouth. “try for another baby?”

There’s a pause, and Natasha doesn’t dare to gauge Steve’s reaction. Her phone buzzes right at that time, which gives her an excuse to look away and at her phone instead. It’s a text from Wanda telling her that James had fun today at the toy museum. She smiles to herself on reflex, then sees that the time is 10.57. She replies Wanda with a quick _thanks little sis_, then turns off the screen. Natasha casts a careful gaze at Steve again. 

“Actually,” Steve finally speaks, meeting her gaze for a split second. “I’ve been thinking of the same thing, too.”

Natasha expels the breath she didn't know she was holding, her face spreading into a grin. If she is to be honest with herself, Natasha didn’t expect she’d have this sort of reaction, this slow excitement building up gradually in her as she realises what it could possibly mean in the future. And this time, she promises to herself, this time, she will do it right from the very beginning. 

Her phone buzzes again, probably Wanda replying to her previous text. She ignores the message, but checks the time on impulse. It’s 10.59.

“Do you think James will be thrilled?” Natasha wonders out loud.

“Didn’t you hear Tony earlier?” Steve chuckles, turning the car around the corner. They’re nearly home. 

“I think he’ll be a great brother.” She muses, recalling how her son had played with Morgan, how he’d taken care of her even though they’re only a year apart. “I know, because he got his trait from you.”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but at that very second he does, Natasha sees blinding lights hurling suddenly into their line of vision, the sound of loud, desperate honks piercing through the air, and before she could truly fathom what is about to happen, a lorry truck rams straight into their car from the driver’s side.

It all happened so quickly, before anything is comprehensible. The car is spinning, its control lost. She doesn’t even hear herself screaming, because the sound from the impact drowns everything else. They hit the edge of the road, and Natasha could feel her breath leaving her, her heart lurching forward as the car flips, then smashes into the ground a split second after, coming to an abrupt halt.

She sees red. 

Lots and lots of red.

* * *

_ ** (end of part i) ** _


	2. the repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for the differences in this version of the original day. ;)

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt, her alarm piercing through the otherwise quiet and serene room. It takes her a few seconds to adjust to the sunlight streaming inside and hitting the edge of her bed, the curtains dancing slightly to the summer breeze. She swings an arm to the side in reflex, switching the alarm off. 

Natasha finds herself frowning as she stares at the ceiling above her, a splitting headache already settling itself at the base of her head. She groans, massaging her temples -_ seriously, _ it’s only 7 in the morning, and she’s already having a headache?

She hears the door opening, then the footsteps padding across the room. Natasha turns her head slightly, her gaze meeting that of Steve’s. She smiles on instinct. 

“Good morning, love.” He greets her, making his way around her side of the bed. Her eyes follow his every movement carefully until he’s kneeling at the edge. Steve leans forward and drops a kiss on her forehead. “Time to get up.”

“Ten more minutes?” She asks, stifling a yawn. Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “Five?” She negotiates, a playful smile on her lips.

“I made breakfast.” Steve brushes a few messy strands away from her face. “It’s going to get cold if you don’t eat soon.”

“Hmm.” She hums, contemplating. There’s something that stirs within her ever so slightly, something that she can’t quite place, a feeling of familiarity from the way Steve is speaking to her that she doesn’t understand. Natasha brushes that feeling aside and continues. “Don’t feel like it. Give it to Liho.” She jokes, then snuggles closer into her pillow, her eyes closing.

“Nat…” Steve says, but he is still smiling. Eventually, he gives in. “Okay, love. Sleep, then.”

“Love you.” Natasha mumbles as she feels him going away. From a distance, she hears his reply, “Love you too.”

* * *

When she finally wakes up, it is a little past 8. Natasha pulls herself out of bed and gets dressed, her hand reaching automatically for Steve’s old college shirt. Her fingers curl around its fabric, lingering there slightly as she frowns. There’s uneasiness in her stomach for some reason, a feeling of unexplainable hesitation she can’t seem to shake away even after she’d slipped the shirt over her head. The feeling edges away slowly as she hugs herself, taking in Steve’s scent of pine and vanilla for a few seconds before leaving the room.

She smells breakfast immediately, the air filled with freshly cooked pancakes. Her stomach reacts at once with a growl. When Natasha enters the dining area and sees Steve reading his daily morning newspaper, she smiles. “You really know the way to a woman’s heart.” She sits opposite him and reaches for the plate in front of her. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Shucks,” Steve replies bashfully. “I can’t possibly let my wife starve now, can I?”

Natasha pauses her action of cutting her pancake midway, her smile disappearing, her thoughts suddenly jumbled and mashed together without an explanation. She is confused, not quite understanding why her mind is reacting so oddly to what Steve is saying, when it isn’t even something that is out of the ordinary. When Natasha just couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she is acting so weirdly, she pushes the thought out of her mind and begins to eat. 

She manages to only take two bites when Liho suddenly lands on the dining table. In doing so, the black feline knocks over the glass of milk near her plate, and Natasha shrieks in surprise as milk spills everywhere, even on her. “Liho!” There’s a surge of annoyance that is rising within her, but it is quickly replaced with that of uneasiness, yet once again. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Steve is already rushing to wipe the table with the cloth he’d retrieved from the kitchen. 

Then it dawns upon her. “Your favourite t-shirt.” She sighs, pointing at it, slightly drenched in milk. 

“Nat, it’s been through worse. It’ll come off.” Steve’s reply is nonchalant, and it somehow calms her down, her eyes now on Liho licking milk off herself. “Sometimes I just want to throw you out.” She says half-heartedly towards the cat who doesn’t seem to notice the commotion she’d caused.

“But you won’t.” Steve puts in gently, still wiping the table. “And you know it. You love Liho too much to do that to her.”

Natasha frowns at that, not replying. Her head starts to throb again, the restlessness in her heart not going away no matter how much she tries to shake it off. Why is she feeling like this, when it’s just like any other normal day? Her gaze eventually settles onto Steve who’d finished wiping the spilled milk on the table, his expression serene, not an ounce of anger or annoyance in his eyes. Instead, he reaches forward to bob Liho’s nose slightly. “Don’t do that again.” He warns slightly. Liho simply purrs in response.

Natasha smiles slightly. “How are you so calm and patient all the time?”

Steve looks at her, already chuckling. Natasha has this feeling she knows what he is about to reply. “Well, one of us has to. It’s obviously not going to be you.”

Jackpot, she thinks to herself, already halfway up from her seat. “Tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw _ you _out as well.”

“Because I’m right and you know it?” He moves quickly to block her path. “Because you love me?”

Natasha’s smile falters as she bites down the first sentence, a playful question, that almost comes out of her throat. Instead, Natasha agrees. “Yeah.” She takes a step closer to Steve. “Yeah, you’re right. I love you.”

Steve’s features soften at once, another smile ghosting his face. He doesn’t say anything though, not even when Natasha takes his hand in hers and slowly walks into the hallway leading to the bathroom. “Join me in the shower, perhaps?”

He lets her lead the way, the moment quiet with an air of genuine love that fills both of their hearts. Natasha feels the uneasiness in her stomach ebbing away slowly as she feels him squeezing her hand, his thumb rubbing her hand in a soft, tender way. They stop right outside the bathroom, and she looks up to meet his sea-blue orbs, eyes which she fell for. Just staring into them makes her feel at ease, all discomfort disappearing, butterflies fluttering into her stomach, an effect that is no stranger to her.

Wordlessly, Steve reaches forward to pull his college t-shirt over her head easily, discarding it onto the floor as he walks her backward into the bathroom, then leans down to kiss her.

* * *

Natasha stares into thin air for the longest of time, her mind completely blank, the book in her lap forgotten. She hears Steve sketching, the gentle sound of pencil against paper, and without much thought, Natasha finds herself listening to him as he does his drawing. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks eventually. 

Natasha turns slightly to look at him, noticing that his eyes are still on his sketchbook. She shrugs, unsure of her own emotions. “I don’t know. Just can’t seem to shake this weird feeling away.”

“What weird feeling?” This time, Steve looks up briefly to meet her gaze, an eyebrow arched. 

“This uneasiness over something.” is all Natasha could answer. 

“Maybe you’re missing James.” Steve finally offers his thoughts, and for one second there, Natasha thinks that he might be right. It’s been more than 24 hours since she’d last heard from him, after all. Is he doing okay at Fury’s? Did he sleep well last night? Natasha picks up the phone beside her instantly, already dialling Fury’s number even before she could stop herself.

“Natasha,” Fury’s voice comes in curtly after two rings, his greeting curt as usual. “do you know what your son said to me yesterday night?” 

She frowns, furrowing her eyebrows together. _ Again _ , it’s that odd feeling, _ again _. That feeling that she’s about to hear something from Fury that she’d heard before. When she doesn’t answer, Fury simply continues.

“He said, and I quote, _ grandpa, if I’m old enough to tie my shoelaces, I’m old enough not to be read fairy tales to bed. _” 

The sentence doesn’t sound like something she’d heard for the first time, even if she isn’t sure of where she’d heard of it before. Natasha doesn’t react much to it, instead she says. “I am a hundred percent sure James got that sass from me.”

Fury pauses for two seconds. “Whoa.” He says, a tone of amusement in him. “I was just about to say that he most definitely did not get that sass from Rogers.”

Natasha laughs, pushing that feeling behind her. “Well...you raised me, you should know.” 

“James definitely got all his snark and wit from his mother.” Fury says with a low chuckle. Natasha simply smiles, glancing at Steve who’d looked at her. “How is he? Is he playing with Wanda?” She asks naturally. “Can I speak with James?”

“Of course.” Fury replies, and there’s a shift of movement from the other line. She hears soft squealing in the background, and Wanda’s laughter. “James, your mother wants to speak to you.” 

Natasha is already putting her phone on loudspeaker while Steve puts his sketchbook away. James screams into the receiver a second after. “Mommy!”

Natasha smiles, but knowing that James hasn’t finished his sentence, she keeps mum. “Mommy! Auntie Wanda said we should go to Disneyland together someday!”

“Hi darling,” Natasha finally says. “Oh, she said that, didn’t she?”

“Uh huh. She said we can go on all the rides and see Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear and Snow White--”

Steve chuckles loudly, just as Natasha’s smile slowly edges away. She grips onto her phone tighter, frowning at the sudden headache that is attacking her. James starts to speak again. “Daddy? Daddy is that you? Did you hear what I just told mommy?”

“Yes, buddy. I did.” Steve replies, looking at Natasha. His smile falters slightly when he sees how Natasha’s forehead is creasing, how distant she suddenly looks, as if lost in her own thoughts. For a second there, Steve wants to ask if she is okay, but he stops himself, knowing that James is still on the other line. So he continues. “Are you enjoying your weekend at your grandpa Fury’s house?”

“Mmhmm.” James replies. “Auntie Wanda lets me eat ice-cream before bed.”

“_ James! That’s supposed to be our little secret! _” Steve hears Wanda’s exasperated sigh from the other line, before her voice becomes clearer. Wanda is speaking into the receiver, now. “It will not happen tonight, Steve, please tell Nat not to kill me. Or maybe...just don’t let her know I fed James ice-cream last night before bed?”

Steve casts another gaze at Natasha, who hasn’t reacted to what Wanda just said. He nudges her side gently, and it breaks her out of her reverie. She looks flustered, confused, a little bit alarmed, even. “Wanda?” 

Wanda gives a controlled laugh, and Steve thinks it is because she thinks she’d just been busted. “Hi, ‘tasha. You know I love you, right?”

“Uh, yeah?” Natasha replies, her tone uncertain. Not at Wanda’s sudden love declaration, Steve thinks, but at something else. “I hope James isn’t giving you too much of a trouble.”

“No trouble at all, I adore this cheeky little cherub.” Wanda replies, and Natasha could hear James giggling in the background. “Oh wait, Fury wants to talk to you.”

Fury’s voice reappears. “I’ll send James to his kindergarten tomorrow, so you’ll pick him up, right?”

Natasha nods. “Yes, definitely.”

“Good. What time are you two leaving for the Starks’ anniversary party, again? I was wondering if you want James to call you tonight before he goes to bed.”

The answer comes to her easily. “I think we’ll be in the party during his bedtime.” 

“I see, nevermind then.” Fury says. “Guess I’ll just need to find some other children’s book to read to him. I only have books about fairy tales and disney princesses because of you and Wanda.”

Natasha pauses, and suddenly, without any warning, a wave of nausea hits her. She doesn’t reply, instead, she thrusts the phone into Steve’s hands. The room seems to be spinning, for reasons she couldn’t comprehend. Natasha rushes for the bathroom as quickly as her legs could bring her, hearing Steve’s voice behind her as he tells Fury he would call him back.

She stops right outside of the bathroom, the nausea slowly fading away, though her heartbeat has risen, thumping so loudly she could hear it. Natasha leans her forehead on the door, wondering what is wrong with her, wondering why she is breaking into a cold sweat when she didn’t even do _ anything _.

“Nat, love?” She hears Steve’s worried voice behind her. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Natasha turns around, then leans into the door. She closes her eyes, breathing in and out slowly in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. 

“Maybe you should go rest.” Steve suggests, rubbing his hands over her arms in a slow motion. “You look troubled.”

“That’s because I am.” She sighs, then shakes her head. “But I just don’t know how I can go from being fine one second, and then like this in the next.”

Steve merely listens. Natasha continues. “When James spoke about Disneyland and wanting to see Mickey Mouse, Buzz Lightyear and Snow White...it just...something in me just _ reacted _to that. And I...I don’t know why I suddenly felt sad.” She opens her eyes to look at Steve. “Like something...something is about to happen. There’s a sorrowful, uneasy feeling in me that I haven’t been able to shake off the entire day.”

“Nat, maybe you’re just overthinking.” Steve says, grabbing her hands together. “Perhaps you got off the wrong side of bed today.”

“Perhaps.” Natasha agrees, suddenly tired of trying to deduce what is wrong with her. “Today really isn’t for me, I guess.”

“Get some rest before the party.” Steve coaxes. “Maybe you’ll feel better after a nap.”

Natasha nods eventually, then asks. “What was Fury saying before I went off?”

“Oh, something about him only having books about fairy tales and disney princesses because of you and Wanda.” 

That causes her to smile in reflex, remembering her childhood memories of Fury reading those books to her and Wanda. She’d given Fury so much headache from asking hundreds of questions over the fairy tales and disney princesses books he’d read to her. “I hope he reads Mulan to James. I have a feeling he would like that.”

“Why?” Steve asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Because Mulan is your favourite?”

“Come on,” Natasha’s smile widens. “A girl disguising herself as a boy to join the army _ and _ ends up saving China? What’s not to like about it?”

Somehow, Steve ends up chuckling, much to Natasha’s amusement. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m just thinking.” He’s looking at her now, eyes gleaming. “About how lucky James is to have you as his mother.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow up. “And you deduced that from Mulan?” 

That sentence causes Steve to laugh even harder. “We’ve come a long way is all I’m saying, Nat. I just think you’re doing a great job, and that you should give yourself some credit for being a good mother to James.”

She understands him at once, the implications behind his words. Natasha returns his smile. “That’s because I have you by my side throughout this journey.” She says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s all _ you _, Nat.”

When Steve says that, warmth fills her heart immediately. She takes a long and careful look at Steve, studying his every minute feature, his eyes, nose, lips, as if Natasha is capturing his face and memorising every detail about it. She captures this moment along with it, this memory of Steve telling her that she is a good mother, and keeps it safely in the deepest recesses of her mind.

Natasha doesn’t ever want to forget.

* * *

When Natasha sees the way Steve is staring at her, jaw slightly ajar, her first reaction is to smirk, pleased that he is reacting that way. She still finds it secretly satisfying that even after all these years, she’d still have the same effect on him like she did back when they first started dating. Natasha even throws in a tease, knowing that when Steve said he likes what he sees, it is her and not the three hundred dollar dress she is wearing. 

When Steve says he’d much rather it be on the floor, there’s a gush of wind that envelopes her entire being, another sense of familiarity, like he’d said this sentence before somewhere. 

_ Not again, _ she says, and pushes the thoughts to the back of her mind. This constant feeling of restlessness had followed her throughout the entire day, and Natasha has had quite enough of it. She pretends not to let it bother her that much, even though it does, especially when they arrive at Tony and Pepper’s anniversary party and the first thing she thinks about is how she’d somehow _ seen the decorations before _. 

It shouldn’t be possible - Pepper wouldn’t have allowed a repetition in their anniversary themes, so Natasha brushes that thought away again, letting Steve guide them towards their group of friends. The second they reach the group, Sam is already throwing them a question regarding the decorations. “Quick, help us decide if Stark’s party decoration is better this year or last year. You’re our tiebreaker.”

Natasha laughs, not at all surprised that of all things they would be talking about, her friends just had to be debating over which party has better decorations. “Why is this even important? I don’t even remember last year’s decorations. Tony hosted several grand parties throughout the year.”

_ “Thank _you.” Maria says immediately after. “That’s what I said, but Sam insisted last year’s was better, while Clint thinks this year’s more regal and classy.”

“Well, Pepper would definitely want to outdo her previous year’s decorations.” Natasha offers her two cents, and Clint punches a fist in the air in triumph. “I was just going to say that!” He says excitedly.

“Yes, but last year’s decoration had a more dreamy, whimsical feeling to it.” Sam puts in.

“But regal suits them better.” Clint counters. “They’re _ literally _royalty.”

“Oh _ god _here we go again.” Maria groans.

Natasha doesn’t allow herself to think about the fact that that annoying, utterly inexplicable feeling is floating around her head once again. That this entire exchange that is happening is not the first time she’s heard of before.

It is almost as if she’d lived through this day.

_ That’s insane, _she shakes her head quickly, then calls for a waiter for a glass of champagne right at the same time Tony Stark finally appears into view. “What do you think?” He asks with his arms outstretched, as if he himself is marvelling over the grandeur of his own party, as though this is his first time organising one.

Natasha wants to tell Tony that his party is lovely, as expected, but somehow, she hesitates. And in that slight pause, Steve ends up being the first to reply to him. “It’s wonderful, Tony.” He says.

“As it _ should _ be.” Tony replies with a smirk, his eyes landing on Natasha holding the champagne glass in her hand. Tony groans. “You just broke my heart, Romanoff.”

Natasha raises one eyebrow. “What? Why?”

Tony waves one hand in the air. “Didn’t you see the way James was playing with Morgan last Christmas? How happy he was?”

Immediate instinct tells her that Tony’s line of thoughts is predictable, so when he says “don’t you think it’s time he has a sibling?”, Natasha is unfazed. She exchanges an amused look with Steve before turning back to look at Tony. She could hear Clint snickering from behind, and she fights the urge to turn around and smack him. Before Natasha could say anything, Tony starts again.

“I’m just putting it out here that the fact that I am still not any of your kids’-” He gestures to both Clint and Steve, “-godfather is an absolute tragedy.” 

_ Tragedy. _ The word lingers in her mind a little longer than necessary. _ Tragedy. _

Without warning, there’s a flash of distorted memories that rush across her eyes in a speed of lightning - people screaming, lights that are blinding. They come and go in a split second, disappearing when she blinks and staggers backward right into Steve. He looks at her, concerned, and Natasha looks back, dazed and confused. 

Natasha breaks into another cold sweat. She doesn’t even know why.

* * *

The party ends at 10:30, but Natasha finds herself lingering in her seat even when guests start to leave. 

“Nat?” Steve calls out gently, leaning into her. “Want to make a move?”

There’s a part of her that instinctively says _ let’s wait for a little while more, _but Natasha ignores that inner voice of hers. It just doesn’t make sense why she is feeling this way, so she nods and takes the arm Steve is offering out to her. 

There’s a sinking feeling that is rising in her when he ushers her into the car. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. This entire day, to her, has been extremely odd to say the least. She’d woken up feeling like she got hit by a truck, she’d moved around mechanically, lost, restless. Certain sentences had struck a chord in her, familiarity washed over her even before she realised anything - it is as though she’d heard of them before, no, she _knows _she'd heard of them before. 

Natasha thinks of the party, of what she’d briefly thought about but shrugged away on impulse. This nudging, persistent feeling of hers, like she’d already seen the scenes unfolding in front of her, could it really be that she’d already lived through this day? It just doesn't make sense - how can that even be possible?

“Steve?” Natasha finally breaks the silence in their car ride home. “Do you believe in deja vu?”

“Hmm?” Steve asks. “I think I’ve gotten them before.”

“Would it be weird if…” Natasha hesitates, then sighs. “If it happens for the entire day?”

“You mean like...this entire day is a repeat of one you’ve lived through before?”

She nods, then mumbles. “It’s stupid, I know.”

Steve isn't judgmental when he asks, “Is that why you’ve been so distant today?” 

“I guess.” Natasha admits, and the second she does, the uneasiness she’d been feeling the entire day on and off, spreads through her heart again. “And it’s not just that. I feel...restless. Like....” Her voice comes off as a whisper. “like something bad is about to happen.”

Steve doesn’t say anything.

“But...I honestly can’t be sure.” She shrugs uncomfortably, fidgeting in her seat. Her head hurts.

Her phone buzzes and she looks down, it’s a text from Wanda, but she doesn’t reply. Natasha sees that it is 10.57. She stares at the numbers on her screen, her eyebrows knitting together. A frown finds its way to her face, something flashes across her vision once again - figments of muted memories from Tony and Pepper’s party, from when they arrived, till the moment they left. Natasha feels her headache worsening. There are a few other images that are appearing before her eyes, images that look awfully real, awfully close to her memory; they’re in the car, talking, Natasha sees herself looking worried, then Steve says something she can’t hear, and she sees this memory’s version of herself breathing a sigh of relief, a smile finding its way onto her face. 

Her heart starts to pound, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“_Turn around_.” She breathes out without warning. 

“What?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

Her phone buzzes again._ 10:59. _

“Turn around, Steve.” She repeats with more urgency this time, her eyes widening as an array of broken memories string across her mind in an instant like snapshots. There’s a sudden agonising, splitting pain that is driving into her mind, causing her to clutch her head. Her heartbeat is skyrocketing, Natasha is aware she is hyperventilating, suddenly unable to breathe. She’s frantically reaching out to curl one hand around Steve’s arm tightly. “Steve. You have to turn around_ now! _”

The urgency in her voice causes Steve to snap his eyes towards her, concern on his face. He sees the look of panic on her face in an instant. “Natasha, are you oka-”

“STOP THE CAR!” She screeches, her heart hammering against her ribcage, goosebumps riding her skin, of realisation that they are about to head straight and imminently towards -

Blinding lights. The sound of blaring honks.

The missing piece to her memory finally clicks in. She screams. 

It is too late.

* * *

_ **(end of part ii)** _


	3. the rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh just a warning that it's going to get real sad from this point onwards. (And again, if you could spot the differences between this Loop and the OG Day/1st Loop, kudos to you!)

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt, her alarm piercing through the otherwise quiet and serene room. It takes her a few seconds to adjust to the sunlight streaming inside and hitting the edge of her bed, the curtains dancing slightly to the summer breeze. She swings an arm to the side in reflex, switching the alarm off. 

This time, she finds herself sitting upright on the bed, her heart filled with a feeling of dread that she cannot seem to understand or place, the base of her head throbbing with uneasiness and even pain.

She hears Steve opening the door and walking in, not at all discreet as his footsteps padded across the room loudly. “Good morning, love.” He smiles.

Natasha meets his eyes, smiling slightly. She shifts a little on the bed, groaning at how her limbs and joints seem to ache. The smile is replaced with that of a frown, she doesn’t understand why her entire body is sore, even moving a muscle seems like a difficult, rather painful, task to do.

“I made breakfast.” Steve says as he sits at the edge of the bed, his weight dipping the mattress to his side slightly. “It’s-”

The words subconsciously slip out of Natasha’s mouth before she even realises; “- going to get cold if you don’t eat soon.” Her eyes widen at the same time as Steve’s, the latter has a mask of amusement on his face. He cracks a grin. “So you can predict what I’ll be saying now, huh?”

Natasha is unsure when she smiles back. “I...guess.”

Chuckling, Steve leans forward to whisper. “I need to up my game then.”

She laughs weakly - her lack of enthusiasm must have stirred something in Steve, for his smile disappears, and his expression is replaced with that of worry. “Are you okay?” He asks, sensing that something is amiss with her that morning. He stretches out one hand to feel her forehead instinctively. 

“Yeah.” She replies curtly, feeling a sense of fatigue overcoming her, even though she’d just woken up. It feels like she never even slept a wink last night, if she is to be honest - but why is she so tired, borderline lethargic, even? 

Steve removes his hand from her forehead and reaches instead for her hands. When he clasps his hands around hers, his frown deepens. “You’re...really _cold_.”

Natasha doesn’t even realise, of course. But the moment Steve mentioned about it, her body seems to react with his statement, and she starts to shiver involuntarily. It confuses the life out of her, but she is already reaching for the duvet and pulling it to cover her body. “I’m fine.” She lies. “Maybe I just need to sleep a bit more.”

“Okay.” Steve nods in agreement, and starts to move away when Natasha suddenly reaches forward to grab his hand, halting his movement abruptly. “Can you…” For some reason she can’t seem to explain, Natasha feels her heart weighing in sorrow, in a type of feeling that is foreign yet familiar at the same time. “can you stay with me?”

Natasha isn’t sure if it is because she sounded almost frantic for no reason, or if Steve sensed that she just needs him by her side, but he nods, already climbing back into the bed. “Of course, love.”

They lie there in silence, their bodies curled towards each other like parentheses, their breaths mingling. Natasha is exhausted beyond belief, but she fights the urge to sleep. She is staring into Steve’s eyes, drowning in their beautiful blue. And then, without any warning, without any possible explanation as to why it is happening, her eyes start to well up. 

Steve sees the tears at once, and the concern on his face seems to grow. “Nat?” His voice is measured, cautious. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Natasha shakes her head slightly, more tears spilling. Her heart clenches - she doesn’t even know why. “I can’t.” She says, because that’s the truth. She can’t explain the gnawing feeling of despair lingering within her, can’t explain why she feels only pain when she looks at Steve. “I can’t.”

Steve nods, even if he himself doesn’t understand her response. “Sleep, then. You might feel better after.”

She listens to him, her eyes are already drooping, her eyelids heavy. Before she falls back into slumber, Natasha manages to whisper, “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Steve returns, and moments after, Natasha is fast asleep. Steve reaches out one hand to wipe the tear stains on her face away. Then, he leans forward to drop a long kiss on her forehead. 

“Sweet dreams.” He whispers.

* * *

When Natasha wakes up, she somehow feels infinitely better. 

She pushes the duvet aside and gets down from the bed, taking small steps across the room as she reaches for the first shirt she could find hanging behind the door. Natasha pauses, her hand stopping midway towards Steve’s old college shirt. There’s hesitation lingering in the air for a few seconds, which confuses her, but eventually, Natasha shifts her hand towards the right and reaches for her robe instead.

Before Natasha steps out from the room, she wonders for a brief second if Steve had cooked pancakes that morning - it’s her favourite, and Steve makes _the most _perfect pancakes. Sure enough, when she opens the door, the smell hits her at once, and she finds a smile spreading across her face. Steve knows her too well, after all.

“You really know the way to a woman’s heart.” Natasha says as she slides into the seat opposite him. “You probably didn’t want to let your wife starve, am I right?”

“Ma’am,” Steve teases. “so you do acknowledge that I’m a good husband.”

Natasha gives him a pointed look while cutting her pancakes. Before she finds something witty to counter him, her eyes land on the glass of milk beside her plate - she guesses that Steve probably poured it for her a few minutes before she came out from their bedroom. She stares hard at the glass of milk on the table, something gnawing her mind insistently. And then, without much thought or particular reason, she picks the glass up.

No sooner did she do that when Liho makes a jump from the kitchen counter and lands smack onto the dining table. Natasha nearly shrieks in surprise, but levels herself immediately as she meets Liho’s gaze. Her heart is thumping, still shocked by her feline’s little stunt. If she hadn’t moved the glass of milk one second before, Natasha thinks, her cat would have knocked it over. “Liho!” She chides, her grip on the glass of milk tightens in her grasp. Liho simply purrs in response, then slumps herself onto the table lazily.

“The audacity of this cat.” Natasha says just as Steve looks up from his newspaper. “She should be grateful I haven’t thrown her out into the streets.”

Steve laughs in response, which causes her to look at him. “Impossible. You love Liho too much to do that to her.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She says easily, already expecting Steve to say that. Steve is already reaching forward to scratch Liho between her ears, a smile on his lips. Natasha smiles along, looking at the scene in front of her and relishing in the quiet, adoring moment between Steve and Liho. “You spoil her too much.” She comments after a few seconds, then resumes her breakfast. 

“But not as much as I spoil you.” Steve returns, his tone affectionate just as Natasha chuckles. 

“How did I get so lucky?” She says, her voice thick with sarcasm, though her heart blooms with insurmountable happiness from such a simple remark. 

“What can I say?” He gives her a lopsided grin. “You married a good man.”

“God, you should stop spending time with Tony.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re starting to sound like him.”

Steve chuckles again, but doesn’t say anything else. He resumes reading his newspaper just as Natasha continues her meal. She lets out a sigh of contentment after another bite of her pancake. “You need to teach me your secret, Rogers. How do you make such good pancakes?”

“And open up the possibility of you burning our kitchen down?” Steve chortles while Natasha lets out a loud groan. 

“_Rogers_,” She deadpans. “I just want to _learn_ a recipe.”

“Okay, _Romanoff_.” He imitates the tone she’d used on him. “I’ll teach you next time.” 

Natasha shakes her head, already smiling. Steve continues. “And for the record, it doesn’t matter that you’re bad at cooking. Because I’ll always be here to cook for you.”

Natasha fights the urge to roll her eyes again, though the corner of her mouth tugs up slightly. “Cheesy.” She simply says.

“Well, get used to it.” Steve throws a wink into her direction. “This will last your entire lifetime.”

She snorts. “It can’t get any cheesier than what you just said.” 

“Oh, really? Try me.” Steve challenges, sitting straighter in his seat. 

“Hmm,” Natasha thinks, then settles for the simplest question. “How long will you love me for?”

“Always and forever.” Steve doesn’t even hesitate. “As long as the earth orbits the sun.”

Hearing that warms her heart instantly, she couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “My goodness,” She says in between giggles. “you’re right. You can’t be stopped.”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want to.” 

“Oh my god, _stop_.” Natasha chuckles, then stands, taking her plate as she heads for the kitchen sink. As she lets the water run and picks up the sponge, Natasha allows Steve’s words to linger in her mind. She relishes in them, relishing in the fact that Steve will be in her life forever - until Natasha feels a sudden, drastic change in her emotions. It hits her hard and fast, happening in a split second that her hands stilled, her dirty plate forgotten. It is as though someone had flipped a mood switch in her brain, and the switch is stuck and attached onto the melancholy chord of her heartstrings. For reasons she cannot explain, it is an all too familiar feeling growing within her - of inexplicable sadness and bitter sorrow, similar to how she’d been when she woke up this morning. A lone tear escapes her eyes without warning.

“Nat?” 

She whirls around, eyes still glistening with tears. Natasha feels vulnerable, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want Steve to see her in this odd, unfathomable condition, so she looks back hastily at the sink. She begins to scrub the plate, ignoring the way Steve is looking at her. 

“I uh…” Natasha clears her throat, clears away the pain in her tone. “...dust got into my eye.”

Steve accepts the explanation wordlessly. “I was just going to ask if you want me to start running the water for the tub first.”

“Oh.” She nods mindlessly. “Sure. That’d be great.”

“Okay.” Steve turns, just as Natasha opens her mouth again. “Steve?” She asks before she could stop herself, something rising out of her; a pleading, a wish - a promise. It halts him in his tracks as he turns around again. “Don’t ever leave me.” She adds softly. “Please.”

“Nat…”

“I can’t imagine what I will do without you.” Something within her compels her to utter that sentence. “Can you promise me that?”

“Of course, love.” Steve promises. “For better and for worse, in sickness and in health. Right?”

Natasha’s mind shifts inadvertently to the last line of their wedding vow, but she shakes it away. She doesn’t want to say it out loud, even though it is lingering in her head. Instead, she nods in faithful agreement. “In sickness and in health.”

As soon as she says that, Natasha feels like her heart is being punctured by a thousand needles. She grips the plate in her hands tighter, sucks in a deep breath, and pushes the pain away.

* * *

Natasha goes through the rest of the day as if she is on autopilot. She does things without even realising she is doing, as if they are ingrained in her subconscious. When she sees Steve perched comfortably on the couch and sketching, she reaches first for the novel lying on the coffee table but frowns when her inner voice tells her she should be doing something else instead. 

She finds out a few seconds after, that the something else is the pick up her phone instead and dial Fury’s number. It makes sense, Natasha thinks, since she has not heard from James in 24 hours - it is only natural that she wants to speak to her son, to check if he is alright. When Fury answers two rings after, she is already bracing for her godfather to jump straight into the first thing in his mind, which is a question posed to her; “Do you know what your son said to me yesterday night?” 

“What?” Natasha asks in genuine curiosity, something stirring within her yet once again. 

“He said, and I quote, _grandpa, if I’m old enough to tie my shoelaces -” _

“I’m old enough not to be read fairy tales to bed.” She doesn’t even realise the words that come out from her mouth until she finishes the quote in a whisper, her voice softly overlapping Fury’s. Confusion spreads across her mind, and a sharp pain strikes her head without warning, so sudden and intense that Natasha nearly drops her phone in shock. 

“Natasha?” She hears Fury calling her name once, twice, and she manages to recompose herself, even though her head is pounding, a rush of blood gushing into her ears. “Did you hear me? I was just saying that James got his sass from you.”

Natasha senses that Steve is glancing into her direction, probably noticing how she’d froze. She doesn’t dare to look at him, to see the mask of worry on his face. “Yeah, I did. He’s probably playing with Wanda, right?” She asks, and then creates another question. “Can I talk to him?”

Fury doesn’t reply, instead, he is already shouting for James. Natasha hears laughter in the background - James and Wanda’s, and she fights to suppress the suffocating pain building up within her. Her hands are trembling, but she manages to put the phone on loudspeaker, so that Steve could hear James’ voice, too. “Mommy! Mommy!” James is squealing loudly into the phone, clearly excited over something. 

_Disneyland. _The word flits across her mind naturally, as if it is the most natural thing in the world that she could think about it first. 

“Auntie Wanda said we should go to Disneyland together someday!”

Steve smiles, but Natasha struggles to curl her lips upwards. “Of course she did.” She says calmly, with strange conviction, like she’d expected Wanda to suggest that even before James told her anything. Steve quirks an eyebrow at the tone of her voice, but doesn’t say anything, and if James had noticed anything odd about his mother’s tone of voice, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he begins to elaborate excitedly. “Uh huh. She said we can go on all the rides and see -” 

_Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear and Snow White, _Natasha’s inner voice tells her right at the same time James goes, “- Mickey Mouse and Buzz Lightyear and Snow White!”

Her heart spasms so suddenly that it jolts Natasha, sending her entire body into shock - a loud gasp leaving her. Steve looks at her in alarm, and Natasha begins to tremble, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She sinks deeper into the couch just as Steve quickly removes the phone in her hand. She doesn’t hear Steve’s rushed voice as he tells James that they love him, that they need to go. She doesn’t hear Wanda’s voice coming into the line again, her tone laced with worry from the urgency in Steve’s voice. All Natasha could hear - as she digs her fingers ferociously into her arms, almost drawing blood, leaving ugly, red marks on them - is a distant voice repeating in her head, the sentence of _we can go next year, darling, daddy will bring us, _playing over and over again like a broken record. It sounded like her voice, sounded very much like something she would say; but when had she said it? When did she tell James that they would go to Disneyland together next year? When did -

“Nat? Nat!” She blinks back into reality, her mind disoriented, a complete daze. “What’s wrong?” 

It takes her a few seconds to gather her words. When she does, Natasha doesn’t even realise she’s tearing up. “There are..._voices_ in my head. Voices telling me what to do, what to say.” Her breath hitches in agony. “I _don’t _know where they’re coming from.”

Steve is silent, which prompts her to continue, “I think I’m going crazy.” Natasha beats her chest a few times, as if doing so would ease the pain that is deeply engraved into her heart. “It hurts, Steve. It _hurts._”

He curls his hands around hers, gently but firmly, stilling her action. “Nat, tell me what I can do for you.”

Just when Natasha thinks the pain is at its worst, her mind falls into an abrupt but eerie silence; void of any sound but her own heart thundering beneath her skin. Her head starts to clear slowly, the pain dissipates, like fog lifting after the sun rises. When she finally looks up, it takes her more than a few seconds to realise that Steve had been calling her name repeatedly, his face pale with concern. She looks at him with empty eyes, feels her senses returning - Steve is cupping her face in his hands now, their eyes meeting. 

“You need to tell me what’s wrong,” He is half pleading. “Let me help you.”

Natasha thinks that the next words that escape her lips do not sound like her at all. It felt like they came from someone entirely different, someone Steve isn’t familiar with, someone she herself isn’t familiar with. It is the voice of someone who has been through what could only be the worst moment of her life; someone in the distant future - _her?_ \- that she doesn’t recognise yet. 

“You can’t.”

* * *

It is a little past 6 when Natasha steps into the bedroom, just in time to see Steve wearing his tie over his dress shirt. He sees her from the reflection in the mirror, the incident earlier still fresh in both of their minds, but Steve doesn’t bring it up again. She wonders what he is thinking when he sees her, wonders if he’d been hurt from what she’d uttered to him earlier. 

But Steve knows not to dwell on matters which Natasha clearly does not have answers to, so he arches an eyebrow when he notices that she is still in the same clothes from the day. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?” He asks.

Natasha hesitates, playing with her fingers. It is true that she is fine now, but she cannot deny that there is a lingering feeling of distress within her, of the voices she’d heard in her head earlier, an intuition which tells her that she should not leave the house. So Natasha speaks up after a short pause, her words careful, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. “What if we don’t go out tonight?”

Steve is unsuspectingly fixated with tying the knot in his tie, but he manages to ask. “Why not?”

She shakes her head when Steve turns his head sideways to look at her. It truly frustrates her that this is another question to which she doesn’t know the answer to. Natasha always _does_. No matter what the question is. She remains mum.

“Nat, we can’t not go.” Steve puts in gently after a few seconds, turning around fully to face her. “It’s Tony and Pepper’s wedding anniversary party.”

“I...” Natasha can’t shake the awful feeling in the pit of her stomach, like _something _is bound to happen if they leave the house. It’s starting to make her sick; she just couldn’t seem to comprehend this feeling. “I just don’t feel so well.”

Worry flashes across Steve’s face again as he moves towards her, reaching her in two strides. He notices immediately how pale Natasha is, and recalls the incident that happened earlier - he’d wanted to help her, but it didn’t seem like she wanted him to, so Steve had no choice but to her be. This time, Steve places a hand against her forehead, the latter flinching instantaneously at the sudden cold touch on her skin. Steve frowns. “You’re burning up.”

She doesn’t react. Instead, she starts to shiver, her teeth chattering involuntarily. She suddenly feels lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous even. The room spins, and she scrambles to sink herself onto the edge of their bed. Steve is by her side in an instant. 

“Nat, do you want to go to the hospital?” Steve asks, his voice laced with concern. Natasha is quick to shake her head, and even though she is shuddering, she wills herself to act like she is alright. “I’ll be fine.” She replies in between gritted teeth. 

Steve trusts Natasha would, of all the years he’d known her - if she says she’s fine, it would be best to trust her rather than press on. He knows that if anyone could take care of herself under even the most dire of circumstances, it is her. Still, that acknowledgement doesn’t mean he isn’t worried about her, though - she’d been acting strange the entire day.

“Why don’t you stay at home then? I’ll go to the party on our behalf.” He ends up suggesting, to which Natasha whips her head to look at him, her eyes widening. There’s something that tells Natasha to _disagree_, a deep, gutted feeling of distress sending all sorts of red flags into her mind. Natasha holds his worried gaze for a few seconds, knowing that if she’d just ask, he would probably stay - and Tony and Pepper, they would understand, too. 

As if he read her mind, Steve continues. “Or do you want me to stay with you?”

But Natasha isn’t weak. She doesn’t need someone to baby her, especially not over an unsettled feeling that she isn’t sure of, that doesn’t make sense at all. “Would you?” Still, she decides to ask.

“You know I would.” Steve replies firmly, lacing his fingers around hers. “You don’t even have to ask.”

It would be so easy to just nod and say _yes, _but guilt washes over her immediately. She thinks of their best friends, their special night, knows how much it would disappoint Pepper if both of them don’t turn up - she’d been preparing for this night for months. What would she say to her if she calls to ask why _both _of them didn’t make it - an intuition that she has for them not to leave the house, a gut feeling that something bad is about to happen? Natasha grimaces at those thoughts - they sounded stupid even in her head. So, despite every fibre of her being telling her not to do it, not to say it, Natasha shakes her head eventually. “No. Go to the party. I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asks in confirmation.

Natasha feels the growing ache within her, the uneasiness nibbling the edges of her heart. But she perseveres with a firm nod. “Positive.” 

Steve returns her nod. “I’ll stay with you until you are asleep.”

“Always the gentleman.” Natasha manages a small smile as Steve rises, one hand on her cheek as he leans down to kiss the crown of her head. “Anything for my best girl.”

“Steve, I - “ She starts again after she’d settled into bed, Steve still by her side. Natasha isn’t one to always express how she feels with words, but something within her nudges her to say it, to let Steve know that - 

But Steve merely smiles, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “I know, Nat.” He simply says. “I know you do.”

Natasha nods. “As long as the earth orbits the sun.”

Steve agrees. “As long as the earth orbits the sun.”

* * *

Natasha isn’t aware of when she’d fallen asleep or when Steve had left for the party. The entire house is quiet, save for the clock ticking beside her on the bedside table. When she wakes, it is from a startling jolt - she is gasping for air loudly, feels herself suffocating, suddenly unable to breathe. Then it hits her without warning; a collage of images, distorted yet clear memories surging into her mind all at once, one after another without a pause, in a sharp instance that causes her to roll over the bed and stumble onto the floor with a loud thud.

Another searing, sharp pain attacks her just as voices start to flood her head - varied, rushed, _so_ many people talking at once - her voice, Steve’s voice, Sam’s, Clint’s, Maria’s, Laura’s, Tony’s and even Pepper’s. None of their sentences made any sense, not when all of their voices are overlapping each other at one go - she hears chatters, laughter, music - Natasha’s heart is pounding - she hears _screams_, all of those disjointed and crashing into her brain in a split second. _Go away,_ she whimpers, cradling her head into her hands, an anguished scream escaping her lips, _please, please stop._

She remembers. _Red_. Lots and lots of red. 

Her phone buzzes loudly, knocking her out of her reverie, the voices in her head fading away. She’s gasping for air, desperate to breathe properly, her mind a complete hazard as she reaches for her phone. _Wanda._ Her mind tells her even before she switches on her screen, even before she sees her sister’s message, even before she sees the figure of _10.57_ gleaming on her phone.

Natasha unlocks her phone and presses straight into the dialling pad. She sucks in a deep breath, her hands are trembling, her entire body shaking. She dials the numbers etched in her memory, listening to its tune that sounds agonising more than anything else at this time - and time, she is well aware, time is running out. “Please pick up.” She begs. “Pick up, Steve.”

“Steve, _pick up_!” Natasha is on the verge of tears now, her heart racing. The dialling tone seems to go on and on for the longest of time, the wait a terrible pain, until there’s a click, and Natasha lets out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Steve?”

“Nat?” His voice comes in on the other end a second after. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Steve, you have to turn around.” Natasha tries to hide the urgency in her voice, but her hands are still shaking, and her voice is quivering. “Please. Please don’t come back yet. Stay with Tony and Pepper. Stay with them. Don’t leave yet.”

“What?” Steve’s voice indicates confusion, of not knowing how she would know that he’d just left the party. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything later.” Her voice breaks; _please let there be a later,_ “Whatever you do, Steve, please don’t come back yet_._”

A pause, and then, “But I’m already on my way home, love. I’ll be back soon.”

“Then _turn_ around.” She almost yells, her tone frantic. Tears are cascading down her cheeks as she glances at the clock on the bedside table, feels her heart tearing apart in an instant when she sees the time - _10.59_. “Please trust me, Steve. You trust me, don’t you?”

There’s a pause of a few seconds, then Steve exhales. “Nat, I do trust you, but I don’t understand. You need to calm down. I’m coming back, okay?”

Her heart sinks, plunging deep into the depth of an abyss that nearly breaks her entire being into two. Natasha feels cold sweat, all the air escape her body in an instant. She can’t breathe, can’t say anything. She freezes in her spot - it’s happening. _Again._

_11.00. _This time, she hears it. 

She drops the phone the same second she hears the impact from the collision. She faints.

* * *

_ ** (end of part iii) ** _


	4. the fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Last Loop.

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt, her alarm piercing through the otherwise quiet and serene room. She switches the alarm off in a split second, already sitting upright. This time, she immediately adjusts to the sunlight streaming inside and hitting the edge of her bed. She notices the curtains dancing slightly to the summer breeze. She throws the duvet aside in a haste, already scrambling from her bed to snatch her robe hanging behind her door - she avoids Steve’s college t-shirt hanging behind the door, her heart already thumping loudly beneath her chest. 

By the time she’d worn her robe, Steve opens the door and strolls in, and Natasha, slightly dazed yet aware of all that is happening, glances at him immediately. He looks a little stunned that she’s already up and about, but before he could say anything, Natasha takes a few hurried strides towards him and closes the distance between them with a hard press of her lips against his - passionate, almost desperate.

“Whoa,” Steve says immediately after she pulls away, a sheepish grin on his face, his ears pink. “and a very good morning to you too.”

Natasha wants to laugh seeing his slightly flustered face, she really wants to, but she can’t find it in her heart to do that, not when worry and trepidation are unfurling within her. This time, she _remembers._ All that is about to happen that day; Liho knocking over the glass of milk, what James is going to do with Fury and Wanda today, Tony and Pepper’s wedding anniversary party, Clint and Sam’s silly banter over the decorations. The lorry truck. The accident. E_verything_. Her heart is aching, she’s convinced that it is almost wrecked. Natasha reaches forward to cup Steve’s face, feels the heat of his cheeks, sees the slight tinge of pink on them. Their gaze meets, her eyes searches for life and warmth, searches for his soul within his blue orbs. When she finds them, the pad of her thumb brushes his lower lip gently, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Nat? What’s wrong?” Steve’s face falls, looking at her in both alarm and concern. 

“You’re alive.” She breathes out, sees the frown appearing on Steve’s face. There’s warmth spreading in her heart, of hope that is not lost. Tears are falling down her cheeks, and Natasha tries her best to swallow the sobs that are coming out from her throat. “_You’re alive._”

Steve wants to say something, ask, rather, of what Natasha meant by that - maybe she had a nightmare last night, he deduces. Instead, he nods and says. “I’m here, Nat. I’m always here.”

“Anything for your best girl, right?” Natasha finally laughs softly, joy spreading across her face. She remembers Steve saying this to her before. She _remembers_.

Steve just looks at her with mild amusement, feels the shift of her emotions. He sighs in relief. “Did you have a bad dream last night?”

“It was worse. Steve,” Natasha levels herself, taking in a few deep breaths. She doesn’t fully understand what is happening to her, the logic behind this occurrence, but she thinks she knows enough. “I need to tell you something, but promise me you would remain calm.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow up, but nods quietly.

Natasha glances at her clock - it is a little past 7. “Later at 8,” She starts, ignoring the puzzled look Steve is giving her. “There will be a glass of milk on the dining table. You poured it for me. And Liho...Liho will knock the glass over, spilling milk everywhere.”

“Nat, what are you say -”

“Please,” She is half pleading, desperation in her voice. “Please just trust me on this one. It’s important that you do. I can’t explain how I know this but...I just...I just do.”

Although he is still a little sceptical, not comprehending what is going on, Steve gives her a nod. “Okay.” He finally says, and Natasha breathes out a sigh of relief.

* * *

Natasha is restless. 

She is tapping her foot against the floor rapidly, not even realising that she’s doing it excessively until she sees Steve giving her another look of concern. Then she stills her movement, takes a deep breath, and focuses her eyes onto the plate of pancakes he’d cooked for her.

“So…” Steve clears his throat slowly, folding his newspaper into half. After what he’d heard from her an hour ago, Steve hasn’t lingered on that thought. Natasha had sunk into bed, her head in her hands. When he realised that she was deep in her own thoughts, he’d gone back to the kitchen to make more pancakes, since his first batch had gotten cold. Natasha didn’t emerge until it was nearly 8, a mixed expression on her face. 

She’d been silent since then, even when she’d settled herself onto the chair opposite him. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He asks gently, noticing that she is staring at the glass of milk in front of her. Like what she’d told him earlier, Steve had poured it for her just moments before she came out from the bedroom - it didn’t strike him odd though, it is out of habit, after all.

Natasha shifts in her seat uncomfortably, scooting the chair backward just a little. “I’m trying to prove a point.” She replies with an answer that isn’t to his question, and Steve opens his mouth to ask _what do you mean, _when Liho makes a jump out of nowhere and lands on the dining table. Natasha leaps up from her chair right at that very second, right before Liho knocks over the glass of milk. 

At first, Steve doesn’t automatically think of what Natasha had told him in the bedroom. He’s busy grabbing for a cloth to wipe the mess, all while Natasha is watching him in silence. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He says hurriedly and repeatedly, not wanting her to explode in annoyance. When he is done cleaning the spilled milk, Steve finally tilts his head to look at her.

Natasha is looking at Steve, her memory as clear as day. She remembers the familiarity of his action of cleaning Liho’s mess, the sentence he uttered to her in an attempt to soothe her annoyance. There is no mistake - she comes to a conclusion, as illogical as this sounds like, that this is the fourth time she’s living through this very same day.

And this time, Natasha sucks in a sharp breath and vows to herself, this time, it will end differently.

* * *

Natasha is aware that Steve doesn’t believe her. 

She knows that to him, Liho knocking over the milk was just pure coincidence, and in full honesty, she can’t fault him for that thought. That is the easiest explanation compared to the cryptic things she’d told him earlier. She has been trying to think of ways to tell him without making it sound like she’s out of her mind, to warn him of what is impending for the both of them if they’re not careful about this entire day. 

“I’m calling Fury in a bit.” She announces to Steve, who then pauses on his drawing to cast a quick look at her. He nods, smiling. “Had a feeling you would do that.” He says.

Natasha doesn’t reply, instead, she makes her way towards Steve and kneels in front of him. She covers her hands over his, stopping his action. Their eyes meet. “What happened earlier with Liho,” Natasha tries again, threading the topic cautiously and lightly. “It wasn’t a coincidence.”

Steve frowns. “Let me prove it to you.” She continues, her eyes hopeful and hanging on one thread. All she has to do is to get him to believe her, to trust her, to not leave their house tonight. Maybe then, she hopes, maybe then things would turn out differently. 

“How?” Steve manages to ask after a few seconds. There is something that is lingering in her eyes that Steve sees - hope, worry, sorrow - that tells him just how important this is to Natasha. To prove this to him, whatever it is, even if he still couldn’t connect the dots together.

Natasha takes another deep breath, then takes out her phone from her pocket. “When Fury answers the call, he will tell me that James said something to him last night.” Natasha hesitates, seeing how Steve’s frown had deepened. “He’ll say...he’ll - “ She closes her eyes, searching her memories for the sentence she’d heard three times. “_Grandpa, if I’m old enough to tie my shoelaces, I’m old enough not to be read fairy tales to bed._”

When she opens her eyes, Natasha expects to see the confusion masked on Steve’s face - and she’s right. Steve is looking at her, trying to gauge if she is telling the truth or if she’d just made that entire quote up. He doesn’t look too convinced, but Steve continues to listen.

“And then we’ll talk to James. He’ll tell us that Wanda told him about Disneyland.” Natasha’s heart clenches slightly at the mere mention of that, “And that he is excited to see Mickey Mouse, Buzz Lightyear and -” She heaves a sigh, feels the pain flitting back into the base of her head, a feeling she’d grown accustomed to in these four days. “ - Snow White.”

Steve remains quiet as Natasha starts to dial Fury’s number. She glances at him again. “James will also tell us that Wanda fed him ice-cream before bed last night.” She adds carefully, her thumb hovering over the call button.

Steve grabs her hand gently before she presses the button. “How do you know all this?” He asks, his tone more curious than it is judgemental. 

“I…” Natasha hesitates. “I’ll tell you later if you believe me after this.”

When she finally dials the number, Natasha notices that Steve is holding his breath - even after Fury picks up and says what she’d said he would, even after James comes on the line and tells them about Disneyland, then slips up about Wanda giving him ice-cream before bed. Throughout the entire conversation, Steve’s expression betrays none of his thoughts, and Natasha could only look at him nervously by the time she ends the call.

When Steve finally finds the words to reply, it is in a tone that is of curiosity, of wonder. A hint of sadness, even. “Why did you...why did you tell me all of that?”

Natasha realises the conflict in Steve’s tone; of robbing him from the moments he should have experienced first-hand if not because she had already told him about them. But what choice did she have? “So that you will trust me, Steve.” She explains carefully, not wanting to reveal too much of what is going through her head. “So that later, when I tell you to stay at home with me, you will stay.”

That only adds on to Steve’s confusion. He arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Tony and Pepper’s wedding anniversary party.” Natasha swallows the lump in her throat, wills herself not to look away. “We can’t go. We can’t leave the house tonight, Steve.”

“Why not?” He presses on.

Natasha shakes her head. “It’s best if you don’t know why.” 

“Natasha, tell me.” Steve says, grabbing her arms gently, his tone so stern that it almost comes out as an order. She flinches slightly. “I can handle it.”

Her features softens, finally lowering her gaze, her voice turns into a whisper. “No, you shouldn’t...I can’t put you through knowing that.”

“Love, trust me. I can handle it.” Steve echoes firmly, tightening the grip on both her arms before loosening it in an instant. “Please?”

There’s a long pause, contemplation hanging in the air. Natasha averts her gaze onto the ground, unable to meet his eyes. She shakes her head once, adamant in not revealing the truth to him - some things are better left unknown, after all.

But Steve perseveres, shaking her gently so that she is looking at him again. “Nat,” He continues, his voice clearly pleading. “Whatever this burden is that has been bugging you since this morning, it shouldn’t be yours alone to shoulder. Let me bear it with you.”

When Natasha looks into his eyes, she sees the earnest gaze he usually reserves just for her, of pure trust and love. The look that is asking her, no, telling her - _don’t you trust me, Nat? Don’t you trust that I can handle this, too? _

She does. She knows he could handle it. She just doesn’t want him to.

“Nat…” He tries again, his eyes begging. “Tell me why we can’t leave the house later.”

In lieu to that comes a period of unbreachable silence - Steve is still waiting for her to say something, anything, and Natasha feels his gaze burning into the back of her head.

“If we leave the house later,” She whispers, the words almost spilling out of her tongue, her heart pounding. She pauses for a long time, trying to search for any hint in Steve which might tell her that he’s having second thoughts about hearing this, of knowing why, but she doesn’t see it, no matter how hard she tries to. Natasha exhales slowly, and finally; “we will get into a terrible accident.”

The effect of hearing that sentence is immediate; Steve’s eyebrows are knitted together, his face breaking into complete disbelief. But even so, he manages to recompose himself, so as to not give too much of his expression away - the last thing he wants is for Natasha to regret telling him this.

“And I have this feeling, this inner instinct that tells me,” A lump latches itself onto her throat as she continues, her voice softening. “that you will _die_, Steve. Today.”

His face is impassive now, even though Natasha is sure he’d heard her. She continues after a long pause.

“You asked me earlier how I knew all those things I told you. It’s because I’ve lived through this day. Three times to be exact.” She wipes her tears away hastily, willing herself to remain calm as she elaborates on what has been running through her mind the entire day. “I...I know I sound crazy, I know this is difficult to swallow…but all three times, I couldn’t save you. All three times, it was too late, _I_ was too late.”

She swallows the lump lodged in her throat. Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t want it to happen again, Steve. I can’t...I can’t go through it again. Please don’t make me go through it again.”

“You won’t.” Steve finally says something, moving closer to pull her into his embrace tightly. “You _won’t._” He says with better conviction in his tone this time._ “_This will be the last time, I promise.”

“I can’t lose you.” Natasha muffles against his chest, burying her face deep into his shirt. “I _can’t_.”

“And you _won’t_, love.” His reply comes without hesitation, and Natasha desperately wants to cling onto that promise, she really does. Yet she can’t bring herself to. She’s afraid, even though she shouldn’t be - everything should be going right this time, shouldn’t it?

So then why is it that deep down in her heart and in the deepest recesses of her mind, Natasha doesn’t believe she has changed anything?

* * *

The answer comes to her eventually.

Even though Natasha is curled beside Steve on the couch, hours long gone since they were supposed to leave for the party - something still doesn’t feel right. That uncomfortable feeling of misery and despair - no longer foreign within her - seems to be manifesting, seems to be aggressively looming over her head as the clock approaches nearer and nearer to 11. It boggles her mind, terribly. She doesn’t understand. She just couldn’t. Didn’t she do everything right, this time? Didn’t she stop Steve from leaving the house? Why won’t this feeling go away? Why does she still feels like she’s at the edge; restless, uneasy, like she could just fall over without any warning?

_10.57_. Natasha doesn’t even need to see the clock to know the time - she hears her phone buzzing from the couch; _Wanda_. As if on cue, her hands start to tremble, her heart begins to race. Her throat feels extremely dry all of a sudden - _water_, she needs water. Natasha untangles herself from Steve’s embrace, scrambling unsteadily towards the kitchen. She’s fumbling blindly for a mug, suddenly breathless, everything going out of focus - it is as though she is suffocating.

“- ‘tasha?”

She doesn’t even hear Steve calling her name - she’s already tuning out involuntarily. All she hears is her heartbeat, every pressure against her ribcage, every beat that is intensely going out of rhythm. She fights the confusion rising within her with denial that everything is going south once again; she refuses to believe, refuses to even think that all she had done today was in vain.

But they are. And somehow, she just knows it.

Another buzz - _10.59._ She squeezes her eyes tightly, gasping for air, her head throbs with agonising - the intensity more than she’d ever felt - pain that nearly rips her apart. The room is spinning, and even though she is clutching the corners of the countertop so tightly, Natasha feels her knees giving in. 

_What went wrong, _is the last thing that flits across her mind before everything goes black.

* * *

_ ** (end of part iv) ** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is relatively shorter, but the final chapter next will be really long so do anticipate! This fic is coming to an end. :')
> 
> Thanks for reading/commenting!


	5. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then she wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full blown angst ahead, just a heads up. :') Please also read the endnotes!

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt. 

But something is different this time. She doesn’t hear her alarm ringing, nor does she see sunlight streaming into the room. There’s no curtain dancing to the summer breeze - in fact, there are no curtains at all. She sits up on her bed, confused, her eyes adjusting to the simplicity of her surroundings; Natasha is seeing only _white_ around her. 

_ Where am I? _

Then she sees him, standing a few feet from her, his face solemn, impassive. His eyes, they’re filled with a sadness that wrenches her heart. “Steve?” She calls out, getting down from the bed to make her way towards him. Is this a repeat of the same day? She wonders, but knows the second she meets his gaze that it isn’t. Not when he is staring at her in a mellow, knowing gaze, of somehow knowing what she’d been going through.

“Nat,” This Steve, this version that Natasha is unsure of, says. The way he said her name tells her that he is still the Steve she knows, yet there is something about him that doesn’t quite feel right either. “you have to stop.”

“What do you mean?” She manages to ask, her face scrunches in confusion. 

Steve is calm when he explains. “Stop holding onto this memory. This day.”

Something hits Natasha hard, and she staggers a few steps backward. Steve doesn’t move, not even when she shakes her head and says, “I don’t understand, Steve.”

“Nat…” Finally, Steve takes a step forward. Natasha finds herself wondering then, why is he here, why is he telling her all of this? How does he even know? “You’ve been stuck in an endless loop, creating different versions of the same day. Because there’s a part of you that refuses to let go.” 

“What?” She breathes out. Natasha already knows some parts of the sentence, but the rest of it causes her to raise an eyebrow instinctively, her mind drawing a blank - _ creating different versions of the same day? _What does that even mean?

“Natasha.” Steve is hesitating now, and she could somehow feel her heart slowly sinking, a feeling that she knows what he is going to say even though this reality, wherever she is now, is entirely new to her. “This isn’t real.” He finally says. Natasha doesn’t know what to make of it, only that she feels her heart sinking further. “You don’t belong here, Nat. You need to go back.”

But this, what Steve just said - this is something she knows the answer to, so she shakes her head again, this time firmly. “Not without _you_.”

“Natasha.” Steve heaves a sigh, though it isn’t one that is of surprise, it is one that he’d been prepared to exhale, knowing fully that she wasn’t going to readily accept what he had told her easily.

She changes the topic then, looking around the white and empty room. “Where is this place?” 

Steve follows her gaze around their surrounding. “You’re in a limbo between life and death.” He explains, his tone melancholic. The second the sentence comes out of him, Natasha halts in her movement, staring into nothing. She doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even react.

“The loops you’ve had to live through again and again? Those were the realities you’d created in your head.” Steve explains sombrely. “They weren’t real.”

Natasha turns slightly, so that she could cast him a glance, her expression impassive when she replies him. “A limbo between life and death, what do you mean by that?”

There’s a long pause as Steve gathers the words in his mouth. “You’re in a coma, Nat.”

She inhales sharply when she hears that, a slight jolt in her heart. But she remains calm and oddly collected when she turns around to face him fully. “What about you?”

It is Steve’s turn to shake his head. He ignores her question easily, replacing it with a statement of his own. “Stop holding on to this day, love. You need to let...you need to let it go.” 

“But why?” Natasha is well aware that he’d ignored her question, and there’s a sunken feeling in her that overwhelms her, the implication of his silence deafening - she refuses to believe it, even though deep down, this knowledge is not lost to her, it is merely lying dormant within her. She shakes her head and persists. “Why? Why do I need to let it go?”

“That’s the only way to break this cycle.” Steve says. “To go back to where you belong.”

“Where _ we _ belong.” Natasha corrects with a hiss, her patience thinning, but Steve merely shakes his head. “No. _ You. _” And then he pauses, gauging her reaction before saying, “I no longer have a place in that world, Nat.”

She freezes when she hears that, instant denial growing within her. “No.” She blanches. “_ No. _”

Steve takes another step forward and closer to her, reaching out to hold her shoulders lightly, gently. “You need to wake up, Nat. There are people waiting for you.”

“But _ not _ you.” Natasha says a little too harshly, trembling with agony. “Not you, right?”

Steve doesn’t answer her. Instead, he persists. “Let go, Natasha, you have to let go.”

“I can’t.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t want to.”

“Nat, love, you don’t get it-”

“No, Steve, it is _ you _ who don’t get it.” Tears threatening to spill from her eyelids, Natasha continues, “I don’t want a world without you. I _ don’t _ want it.”

It breaks, no, it absolutely _ tears _ Steve’s heart - a shell of whatever that is left - apart to see her in so much pain. He stops talking for a few seconds, his expression dejected. It prompts Natasha to speak again. “How do you expect me to live without you? I _told_ you didn’t I? I can’t imagine a life without you, Steve.” 

There’s a lump on his throat that he suppresses. “You have to try, love.”

“No!” She nearly yells, her voice breaking in anguish, in ache. “_ No _.”

“Natasha.” Steve reaches down to hold her hands, but she shrugs her hands away, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Natasha, listen to me-”

“You promised me a happily ever after.” She jabs a finger into his chest, “For better and for worse. In sickness and in health. You _ promised _.”

“Till _ death _ do us part.” Steve adds quietly, and sees the way her face is breaking into a myriad of emotions; pain, denial, devastation, _ anger. _

“This isn’t fair.” Natasha chokes back the sobs surging through her throat. “Why you? Why us?”

“It is not a question I can answer.”

“What if I don’t want to go back? I’d rather live through this day every day for the rest of my life.” If this is a dream, she doesn’t want to wake up from it. If it would mean that she could see Steve again, and again, each day, she’d take it. It is selfish, but she would. In a heartbeat. She_ would _. “Than to wake up knowing you would no longer be there.”

“You’ll be in pain. Constant pain, love. Haven’t those three days taught you that?” Steve looks at her, his eyes sad. “I don’t want that for you. Think about Fury and Wanda, think about our friends. They want you back, Nat. They want you to keep fighting for your life. They _ need _ you back. And _ James _-”

“What about you?” Natasha screams in anger, her heart wrenches in obvious suffering and pain that know no boundaries. “What about _ you _?”

“There’s nothing they can do about me.” Steve shakes his head slowly, it is with graceful acceptance._ “I’ve been mourned.” _

Hearing that guts her straight in the stomach, as though someone had drawn a knife against her skin, pressing it into her body until the cut goes deeper and deeper. She chokes down the sobs rising in her chest, shaking her head furiously. This can’t be real, this can’t be, it just can’t -

“Nat, love. Look at me.” He reaches forward to cup her face. “Time works differently here. Although it’s only been a few days for you...it’s been 3 weeks in the real world.”

The revelation doesn’t stun her, instead, she clamps her mouth shut, letting tears stream down her cheeks.

“The others...they’re waiting for you. Tirelessly.” Steve continues softly. “They’re hopeful you will wake up.”

It suddenly strikes her. “James.” She gasps, her heart clenching again. Her sweet baby boy, all alone, without both of his parents by his side- 

Steve is nodding along, understanding her concern. His expression mirrors hers. “Our son needs his mother. Don’t hold on to this anymore, love. It’s time to let go.”

There’s a long pause as Natasha fists her hands around the fabric of his shirt tightly. She’s looking at him, recalling another memory, her eyes sombre and hollow. She speaks eventually, her voice small, measured. “We were supposed to go to Disneyland with James together.”

She could see the pain streaking across Steve’s face, even though he is trying his best to keep his expression impassive. Natasha knows why. It’s a classic Steve Rogers thing to do - he doesn’t want her to worry about him, he wants this to be easier for her when she has to say goodbye. 

“We were supposed to try for another…” Her voice breaks, tears welling again. She couldn’t finish her sentence, couldn’t finish the thought that she is about to lose him forever. “You told James you would see him tomorrow…”

Steve remains mum, unable to speak. He fears that if he does, he would start crying, too. And that to him, is not something he wants Natasha to see, not as a last image for her to remember him by. 

“Where will you go after I wake up?” Natasha finds it in her to ask the inevitable, even though deep down she already knows the answer to her own question. 

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter where I go after this, love.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “This world isn’t real.”

“But it felt so real.” Natasha tries to argue. “Those 3 days I had to relive. Every second, every moment...”

He doesn’t answer her. She places a palm on his chest, trying to feel his heartbeat, a sure sign of life still breathing within him. But when she presses against his chest, she cannot feel anything. Natasha gives him a sad gaze, sees that his expression is a replica of hers. “How can it not be real?”

She continues. “How can _ you, _standing right in front of me now, not be real?” 

When Natasha looks at Steve, she still sees the man she’d been through thick and thin with, her best friend, her confidant, the man she fell in love with years and years ago. She still sees _ some _ resemblance of life in the way he holds her gaze, the small but pained smile on his face, even though his eyes are supposed to be hollow, void of any warmth, of any soul. When she looks into his eyes, she still finds herself getting lost in the depths of blue, everything else fading into a forgotten, noiseless background.

She removes her hand, letting it fall limp to her side, her face breaking again. But Steve is already reaching for her, taking her hands in his, slowly but firmly. “I’ll tell you what’s real.” He begins, his voice comes off as a whisper. 

“My love for you is real.” Natasha feels the pads of his thumbs rubbing her hands, and instantly, tears roll down her cheeks - memories of when Steve used to do this for her flit across her mind. She wills herself to look at Steve, wills herself not to blink.

Steve takes a deep breath before he continues. “All the moments we shared together, they are real. All the things I told you, our playful banters, all our arguments...those are real, too. Every kiss I gave you. Every hug we shared. All our memories together, all the good times and the bad times. They are all real.”

Natasha swallows down a sob that is coming out from her throat, relishing in his words that are filling her heart with warmth that _ hurts _. When she finds her voice eventually, it is to ask him a question. “Are you in pain?”

Steve shakes his head, prompting her to continue. “Will you be alright?”

Steve nods, caressing her face gently. “Just remember me, even if you’re the only one that remembers me. Because what we had was real. As long as I exist in your memories, in your heart, in James’ heart, I’ll be alright.” 

There are tears in his eyes as he pulls her into a tight embrace, one hand against the nape of her neck. He sobs, once, twice, then pushes it back down and locks the feeling in the deepest abyss within himself. “_ You’ll _ be alright. Promise me you’ll be alright. Because if you are, then I will be, too.” 

Natasha clenches her jaws together tightly, an attempt to suppress the sobs rising in her chest. She nods, tears staining his shirt as she latches onto him tightly, refusing to let go. “I promise.”

“I love you, Nat.” Steve leans back to wipe her tears away, one last time, and leans down to kiss her, one last time. “Always and forever. _ As long as the earth orbits the sun _.”

“I love you too, always. So, so much.” She cups his face in her hands for what seems to be the last time, her heart already broken into thousands of irreparable pieces. “I’ll remember you. For the rest of my life. I will remember you, Steve.”

“Then let go, love.” He encourages her, his voice a whisper. “_ Let go _.”

She does. Then she’s falling.

* * *

Natasha wakes with a startling jolt. 

This time, there is no piercing sound of her alarm clock. There is no sunlight streaming in from the window, no curtains dancing to the summer breeze. She doesn’t swing an arm to the side, doesn’t hear footsteps padding across the room. There is no dip of the bed from an additional weight, no voice that greets her a good morning. 

All’s quiet in this place, wherever she is, the only sound that she hears is the faint but steady beeping from the machines around her. Natasha is confused, dazed. Her eyes are taking too long to adjust to the darkness of this room - it must be a room, she is lying on a bed, after all. Where is this place? Where is she? Her mind is still distorted and clouded, fragments of her memories flickers across her head slowly, but they’re not in an order that is comprehensible to her. There’s a throbbing pain settling itself on the base of her head, she’s still disoriented, still a little unsure of what is happening, of what has happened. She could feel herself panicking at the passing second, her heart starts to race.

She hears footsteps, a doctor and a nurse rushing to her side. They’re whispering amongst themselves, in medical terms she doesn’t understand, words too quickly that she couldn't catch. They check her vitals, her readings, and then the doctor is by her side and telling, no, asking, something from her that goes past her head. He checks the reflexes from her pupils, then mumbles a few more sentences to the nurse beside him. 

“Ms. Romanoff?” She hears the nurse calling out her name, but she doesn’t react. Natasha can’t find her voice, nor the strength to speak. She feels empty, void of all emotion, like there’s nothing in her that makes her feel even remotely grateful that she is alive. “Ms. Romanoff? My name is Claire Temple. If you can hear me, could you please blink?”

She does as requested, and sees the nurse smiling. The nurse starts to speak again.

“Ms. Romanoff, you were in a car accident.” Claire’s voice is gentle and soft, patient. “Do you remember?”

Just the mere mention of that sends shivers down her spine, a frenzy of images hurried across her mind - unwanted, uninviting images that cause Natasha’s heart to clench as an immediate effect, as though someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart with all their might. Her eyes start to widen in sheer panic, but Claire quickly holds two hands out and gestures for her to breathe. 

“It’s okay, you’re alright.” She is saying repeatedly and slowly. “It’s okay, you’re alright.”

Hearing that ignites something in her heart, the assurance that she is alright, but Natasha is unable to give the nurse the reaction she hopes for. She’s still a little confused, still unaware of the exact details of the accident, where she is exactly. She finds that even nodding seems arduous, something she is unable to do at this moment, let alone speak. Claire doesn’t seem to worry about that though, as she opens her mouth to talk to her again.

“You may not remember this, but you were drifting in and out for some time before you fell into a coma for three weeks.” It is as though the nurse could hear her mind, “You’re currently in the intensive care unit in the New York Hospital.” She gives Natasha a smile that the latter can’t return. _ Three weeks. _ The words register slowly in her head, and when they do, there’s a flash of distant remembrance, the familiarity of those two words, of knowing how long she’d been in this state for, even though she isn’t supposed to know. It makes no sense that she knows, she doesn’t even know _ how _she knows, only that she isn’t the least surprised to hear that she’d been in a coma for three weeks.

Natasha doesn’t even hear the nurse. When she snaps back to reality, it is because the nurse is calling her name repeatedly. “Ms. Romanoff?” Claire is patient as she repeats once Natasha is staring back at her. “We’ll have to keep you in the ICU for at least another day to monitor your condition. Your sister is in the waiting area, we will inform her of your condition. But she won’t be able to visit you just yet.”

_ Wanda, _her mind manages to flicker ever so slightly to the younger woman. But nothing leaves her, and nothing else appears in her mind. Natasha is staring at the nurse, not knowing what to make of her situation. She tries to say something, but finds that she has no strength to. Even twitching her finger is difficult for her. Her mind is filled with incoherent, jumbled up thoughts that exhaust her beyond belief, and she’s starting to feel her consciousness fading away.

“Please rest, Ms. Romanoff.” Claire says as she gets ready to leave. “We’ll check back in-”

Natasha is already drifting into slumber even before Claire could finish her sentence.

* * *

She isn’t aware how long she’d been asleep for - probably more than a day, but when she wakes, Natasha notices that her surroundings are different than they were before. She takes in the cream coloured interior, the space that stretches from one end to another. This time, there’s better clarity in her mind this time, as her eyes continued to scan the spacious room, sees the many baskets and flowers at a corner. Her mind slowly works the connection - she’s definitely in a private ward. One which she clearly knows she cannot afford. 

_ Tony. _Her mind says in an instant, and Natasha tries to shift in her bed, but couldn’t - her entire body is still sore, aching from the aftermath of the accident. Someone stirs beside her, a person that Natasha doesn’t even realise had fallen asleep on the side of her bed. As Natasha turns her head slightly to the side, she recognises who it is in an instant.

Wanda opens her eyes slowly, and her eyes meet her sister’s one second after. She begins to tear up immediately. The first thing Natasha notices is how worn out her sister looks, the dark circles under her eyes apparent, her face a ghostly white. 

“Natasha.” Wanda breathes out in utter relief, already reaching forward to clasp Natasha’s hands in hers. “Thank god, thank god, thank god.” Wanda repeats like a broken record, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Natasha waits for Wanda to wipe her tears, for her to look at her again. When she does, she speaks for the first time. “Water.” Her throat is dry, her voice completely hoarse. It somehow comes off as a whisper, even if she didn’t intend for it to. She shifts in her bed uncomfortably, as Wanda quickly brings a cup of water to her lips. She takes two small sips, sighing in slight contentment, though her mind is still in disarray. Then, Natasha asks slowly, only managing to utter two more words. “Where’s James?”

“At home with Fury.” Wanda replies, smiling slightly. “He’s been such a good boy, Nat. He...he’s a really good boy.”

_ Of course, _ Nat wants to say, but she’s too weak to, _ he has at least half of Steve’s genes, of course he is a good boy. _

Something clicks into her mind just then. _ Steve. _He was with her during the accident. Natasha pushes herself up too quickly, pain searing through her instantly, her head throbbing before she falls back against her pillow. She lets out a whimper, her heart racing in utter uneasiness. For some reason she couldn’t understand, her lower lip is quivering, tears threatening to spill. 

“Steve,” His name breaks in the tone of her voice. It comes off as broken, not quite like how she would call him, it is as though deep down, she knows something that she isn’t ready to accept, isn’t ready to let go. “Is he okay?”

Wanda’s face falls, more tears are brimming in her eyelids - Natasha notices it at once, but she refuses, just _ refuses _ to believe it means anything. She tries to calm herself before she speaks again, referring to broken fragments of a memory she doesn’t know where or how it is in her head, just that it is, and she’s certain that it happened. “I saw him.” It takes every ounce of energy out of her to form a complete sentence. “I talked to him...” Her sentence trails off, confusion strikes her.

“Nat,” Wanda’s voice cracks, her eyes averted elsewhere. “Oh, Nat. I’m so sorry. I’m terribly sorry. You don’t remember, do you? Steve...” Wanda is sobbing, her hands tightening around Natasha’s. Her voice is small when she elaborates. “he...the doctors said it was painless. He’s...he’s gone, Nat.”

Deep down, somehow or rather, Natasha already knows. But hearing it from another person, hearing those words out loud _ hurts like hell _. It feels like someone had just stabbed her straight into her heart, plunging the knife deeper and then twisting it in all directions, ripping both halves apart without mercy. Tears are streaming down her face, she is sobbing loudly, unable to suppress any of the cries that come out from her mouth. She’s inconsolable, even when Wanda leans over her bed to hug her gently, even when her little sister is mumbling soothing words that are flying past her head, because to her they are meaningless. 

And then an image looms over her, in the figment of her memory, her imagination, a little blurry and unclear initially, but eventually, she sees him. Through her vision that is shrouded by tears, Steve is looking at her with sad eyes, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s opening his mouth to say something, and if Natasha tries hard enough, she could hear him.

_ “My love for you is real.” _

She shuts her eyes, streams of tears wetting her cheeks, her hospital gown, Wanda’s shirt. Steve’s words, the ones he’d told her before she woke up, when she was still with him, stuck in a time-loop she didn’t know she was in until it was too late. Those words are suddenly flooding into her mind all at once, like waves in the ocean crashing towards the shore. One hand flies to cover her mouth, an attempt to muffle the howl in her throat.

_ “All the moments we shared together, they are real.” _

Natasha shakes her head in sorrow and denial, her entire body trembling. She writhes in anguish under Wanda’s grasp. She’s beating her chest repeatedly, trying to make the pain go away, trying to still her heart, now a furnace of pain, of agony she has never felt before. 

_ “Every kiss I gave you. Every hug we shared. They are all real.” _

Her walls tumble down, the entire world crushes on her harshly. She doesn’t think it is possible for her heart to break any further than it already has, but it does, and the pain ripples across her every bone and muscle until she’s out of breath, out of energy, her voice hoarse from all the crying, her eyes swollen with agony and grief.

_ “Just remember me, even if you’re the only one that remembers me.” _

Her sobs break apart when Natasha gulps for air, the pain slows for a few seconds before it hurls her back to reality, and once again she is plunged into a state of misery, of a realisation that this is the reality she has to live in now, a reality without Steve.

_ “I love you, Nat. Always and forever. As long as the earth orbits the sun.” _

She rather her heart stops beating; it would probably hurt less.

* * *

**THE END**

**Notes: **

  1. For two days after that, Natasha refuses to speak to anyone. Not Fury, not Wanda. Not Clint nor Laura, neither Sam nor Maria. Not Tony and Pepper. She spends most of her time fast asleep, because it is when she is asleep that she isn’t hurting, she isn't feeling the pain surging through every fibre of her being. When she finally does speak to someone, it is to James, who Fury brings along for a visit one morning.
  2. Natasha undergoes rehabilitation, even though it seems meaningless for her. But she thinks of James, thinks of Steve’s last words. So she tries. Even if it is difficult. She tries.
  3. When she is finally discharged, nearly a month later, finally returning to a home that is no longer whole, Natasha tries to stay strong for her son. James knows that his mother is suffering, but he pretends not to notice that she cries each night behind closed doors, when she thinks James had fallen asleep. 
  4. Some nights, it is harder than usual. Natasha still feels like she is being shot by a bullet, her heart battered, completely wrecked. Memories slip through her fingers, into her bruised heart. She welcomes them, even though they tear her apart. She welcomes them, because she doesn’t want to forget. She promised Steve she would never forget.
  5. Six months after, Natasha is slowly recovering. There’s still a feeling of hollowness that she has grown accustomed to, but at least it doesn’t hurt that much anymore. She still apologises to James though, when she attempts to cook pancakes for him for breakfast, but they don’t quite turn out the way she wants them to. And when she smiles, it still doesn’t reach her eyes.
  6. A year later, her heart no longer hurts when someone mentions Steve’s name, when she wears his old shirts to bed, or when she walks around the house and finds some of his things still at the spots he’d left them to be. She’s already numbed to the pain, after all. 
  7. Natasha caresses the framed photograph of them with James, then brings it close to her chest. Her heart is steady as she echoes, “Listen to my heart, Steve.” She clutches the frame tightly, her breathing slow. “I’m alright.” - _only time will tell,_ Natasha thinks to herself, _but I will be alright_.
  8. She picks up his sketchbook eventually, exactly 16 months after the accident, and flips the pages with James beside her, her heart beats calmly beneath her chest. “I miss daddy.” James whispers. Natasha gathers him in her arms and plants a long and loving kiss on the crown of his head. “Me too, darling.” She says. “Always and forever.”. 
  9. James looks at her, smiling. “As long as the earth orbits the sun, right, mommy?” Natasha nods, tears pricking her eyes as she stares into James’ beautiful blue eyes, _Steve_’s eyes. “As long as the earth orbits the sun.” She confirms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summarised Explanation:
> 
> Everything that happened after the accident in the first chapter were different versions of her last memories with Steve manifesting in her subconscious, since she was in a coma. Each version had her start off the day in the same manner, yet they progress differently because she gradually became more aware of what was going on. By the 3rd time she’d been in the loop, Nat was well aware of everything, because she’d lived through the day for the 4th time. What she wasn’t aware, not until it was too late that is, was that the outcome of the day will not change no matter what she did, because that just wasn’t possible - Steve had already died in the real world. 
> 
> She had clung onto every strand of hope left in her that she could change his fate, without realising that everything that happened actually happened in her head. It doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not real, though. All the lines Steve uttered to her were very much real and have happened at **some point** of their lives in those years of them knowing each other, which was why she could conjure those during the different versions of the Day. 
> 
> I also placed a few easter egg hints throughout the fic, like how Nat woke up with a headache (to signify traumatic brain injury from the accident) and sore muscles/limbs (because she'd been in an accident). And when Wanda tells her "you don't remember, do you?" it's to show that actually Nat was already told of Steve dying, but then she fell into a coma and that was what triggered the time loop, because she was in denial that he was really gone.
> 
> Anyway! I initially wanted to do a Time Loop fic but I didn't expect it would be this tragic but oh well, what's done is done. Please lemme know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed this fic (as much as I enjoyed writing it) even though it is so angsty and tragic, gosh the amount of pain and suffering I put Nat through - I should be sniped (hahah kidding,,,unless). 
> 
> P/S I'm working on another AU - a fluff college one at the moment, so if you're tired of me writing angst, that's something to look forward to I guess, hahaha. Thank you for reading/commenting!


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